Time
by Halfjaw101
Summary: A hero named Steve Rogers and a vampyre named Mikayla Silverblood meet after Rogers' seventy-year sleep. Seventy years of technological advances and a completely new world that they must help each other adapt to. T for... stuff.
1. New Beginning

_**This story spawns from a beautiful roleplay I'm taking part in with an INCREDIBLE Steven Rogers roleplayer. (He put 'Stephon' for reasons... so that's why it's spelled different here.) It's my DREAM to become as good a roleplayer as they, and with their help, I'm getting there. Very little has been edited in this - only some misspells I missed in Google Docs, and a few things that would help a paragraph run smoother. As you can tell if you're reading this, my being exposed to this awesome person has greatly amped my ability to give several paragraphs... I'm quite ashamed of how I started out *lol***_

**_Anywho... I don't own Stephon Rogers, and neither does the other party... you might consider this version of Steve their's, though... However, Mikayla Silverblood, Marcus Khyte, the Little Lady, and this version of a small Italian town of Massa Marittima DO belong to me. None of them are worth stealing, but I'd appreciate them stay in my possession. I hope you do enjoy... I know I enjoyed writing this with Rogers' roleplayer._**

**_I also have a request to make of you readers. We are completely unable to come up with a good title for this story... 'To Be Titled' just doesn't cut it. We would be SO grateful if you would read this, and review with your ideas of a title! If that's the only reason you would review, so be it, but you would earn our thanks._**

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Mikayla looked out of her window, out at the dark streets of the city. She'd been living there for the past century or so, not going out much and keeping her face hidden so she wouldn't arouse suspicion. Normally, to hide what she was, she'd do everything she needed in the day time. Sunlight didn't hurt anything but her eyes. Feeding, though... feeding always took place at night.

Looking around to make sure no one was looking, she slipped into the shadows outside of the window and slid down to the ground, letting her hair fall off her shoulders and hide her pale white skin, her hands slipping into the large sleeves of her dress. Silently she stalked the streets, looking for her favored prey - males. Oh, it was delightfully easy to entice a man close enough to silence him and feed.

After a few minutes of walking, she found a likely candidate. It was late enough that most people would be inside, but being out wasn't ridiculous. To her, he looked plain and simple, if not a little confused. Drunk, maybe? He didn't smell it, but some humans were capable of hiding it rather well. She stepped into the shadows, then paused, and decided to try a different tactic. He didn't seem a 'boobs-to-sex' kind of man. She pulled her cloak a little tighter, then approached him, coming up silently behind him. "Hello, handsome. What're you doing out so late, hm?"

Steve stares at the sky for some time. He ponders for some time, trying to figure out why he's in this predicament. What had he done wrong? Were his heroics as Captain America unapproved by the gods? If so, then it would make sense as to why he's here, seventy years into the future and away from the people he cares about. Those people, his fellow soldiers: they no longer exist. They've moved on from this life while he's still living it.

Steve is still trying to get used to this place and time. As a matter of fact, he's done a lot of reading so that he can catch up with what's going on in the world. Nazi Germany is no more. Japan is no longer an enemy. WWII is pretty much done. But something else has been pretty big lately. According to some articles he's read, mutants have become more common. Well, that is what they're being called anyway. They are people who aren't considered fully human. It's caused Steve to think. Would he be considered a human because of his genetic enhancement? He was built to be the perfect human, physically and internally. He can do things that no other regular person can.

Does that set him apart from humanity?

With all these thoughts going through Steve's head, he turns away from the sky and shakes his head. It's been a long night. He isn't tired though. It takes a hell of a lot to get him tired. Maybe he'll go bar-hopping again just so that he can meet some people and attempt to blend into this strange world. That seems to be like the only idea that makes sense right now. Before he can begin walking along the darkened streets, a voice stops him. A female voice.

Steve turns around and faces the woman. Her words catch him offguard. Back in his day, anyone who spoke such words would be considered a spy for the opposite side. That's why he instantly lifts up his guard. He may have enhanced skills but he doesn't like fighting either.

". . .walking," Steve says, looking her over once. He's stil a 1940s man at heart so he's not very used to the fact that women these days can be the ones who approach men and flirt. It's not that he thinks she's flirting with him. It's just that he wouldn't have been suspicious if he were from this time.

"A little strange for you to tell me such a thing, isn't it, miss?"

Mikayla arched a brow, tilting her head, taking a subtle sniff in his direction. He was definitely different than most of her targets. "No, I shouldn't think so... Women like myself always ask a man like... you that question... Especially when walking in her... section." Way to totally make yourself sound like a courtesan, Mikayla. Well... she did kind of work like one, in order to get what she needed...

She'd been there when he was in his own time. She knew what the forties had been like. And the thirties. And the twenties. And all the way back since the thirteen hundreds. Six hundred and twenty-eight years she'd been alive. She could easily talk about things with him and not from the point of a history book.

Well... he was more human than her, enhancements or no. She used to be, but at least he'd fit in better than she ever could. Her pale, pale skin and weird eyes would make her stick out like a sore thumb. At least he looked normal.

She folded her arms across her chest, and shook her head. "Nevermind, I'm off duty. Forget what I said... But still, it's not really strange... Just one person asking another what they're doing out so late." She smirked softly, which then turned into a little smile, her eyes changing from a white-blue to a more solid blue.

Steve watches her closely as she speaks to him. Her words are strange. Her eyes are even stranger. Instantly he starts to think of the mutants he's read or heard about lately. She can't just be a regular human looking like that. He's not mentally bashing her look because she is very attractive but in a mysterious and unhumanly sort of way. He wants to ask her all sorts of questions but he's in a very strange situation, considering how he got here and all.

Now Steve doesn't know what she means by walking in her section. It does make her sound like a soiled dove but he tries not to judge too quickly. He just lightly clears his throat and gives her a small nod. "You're right," he tells her as he watches her eyes change. Yes, he does catch that. "It isn't strange at all. I guess it's just. . .not many people just ask me things like that." He gives a subtle smile so that he can appear more relaxed.

Steve doesn't know what sort of situation he'll get into with this woman but he does know that he plans to fulfill part of his curiosity about her.

Mikayla's next eye change would be even easier to catch - the solid blue started going purple, the color red bleeding into the blue from her pupil like blood from an overflowing pool. She didn't always catch the changes, since they weren't really voluntary, and this was one of the times that she didn't.

She arched a brow, tilting her head slightly. "Ah, makes sense. That means you must stay in the more... civilized, section of cities." She sighed, and looked away, then smiled at him.

Steve stares into her eyes as they change color again. She really isn't human. He knows that almost for a fact now. If she's a mutant, then he would really like to get to know her. He's always wanted to meet a mutant since he's heard so much about them. He hears what she says but these thoughts cloud his head for a second.

"Oh," Steve says after a few moments. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right." He looks off to the side as the silence temporarily passes. Then he looks back at her. "So, seeing that you approached me and all. . .want to help me back toward where I came from? It's been pretty easy for me to get lost lately." He smiles a little bit. Hopefully he can get this opportunity to speak to her a little longer. He just hopes her mysterious intentions aren't hostile.

Mikayla did of course feel the next change, the muscles holding her fangs up loosening and longing to stretch, which would make it hard to comfortably keep her mouth closed. 'No need to scare him off... Better ease him into the subject...'

She then paused, blinking. "Did you just ask me to walk you home...?" She chuckled. "Sorry, honey, but I don't know where you live. I can walk you back the way I saw you coming, though, if that would make you feel better?" She flashed him a smile that would have been stunning, if not for the sudden change in her canines; they were replaced by much longer, slightly-curved teeth. She couldn't hold them up manually any longer, it was just too much concentration needed and not available.

She offered a pale hand to him, ready to walk him. She would walk him as far as he wanted her to, then turn and walk back if he said so. It would annoy her, seeing as she would then have to find another to feed from, but she would do so. She wasn't a monster like the others...

Steve looks at her and shakes his head. "No. . .not walk me home." He chuckles too. "Just back toward the city." He gestures straight ahead. When he looks at her smile, he notices her teeth. He pauses for a moment and clears his throat. He starts to wonder more about what she is. A shapeshifter? He wants to ask but that might seem rude in this day and age.

Steve moves forward so that she can take his arm. It's what a gentleman would have done back in his day. "If you feel at all uncomfortable, just let me know and I'll walk back on my own." He starts to walk along the quiet streets while feeling this strange vibe from her. He doesn't know if it's a good strange or not. Maybe he'll get his answer soon enough.

"Oh," Steve says after a moment. "Name's Rogers. Steven Rogers. It's nice to meet you, miss." He hopes that they can get the chance to talk about each other during the walk. Little does he know what she really needs of him.

Mikayla blinked, and it was almost second nature to take his arm before they started walking, smiling devilishly. It wasn't a scary smile; in fact, it was the opposite, a very inviting, quite seductive smile. "Oh, honey, there's nothing you could do that would make me feel uncomfortable."

The introduction was new. The last few years, she might've learned the names of only five or six people. "Mikayla Silverblood. So, Mr. Rogers..." She paused, then shook her head. "Is it alright if I call you by your first name, sir?"

She blinked again. Sir? She hadn't said that in a long time, and definitely not to any male in her 'party'.

Steve is a little taken aback when she calls him honey. In the 40s, only mothers or significant others called someone else honey. Things really have changed, haven't they? He supposed that any woman can call a man by a term of endearment, even if she's met him for only a few minutes. He shakes his head at the thought but doesn't say anything to it. He's just glad that he can't make her feel uncomfortable.

Steve looks at her after she says her name. "Mikayla. . .that's a very pretty name." He smiles a little and then nods at her question. "Sure, Miss Silverblood. You can call me by my first name. Steve, if you prefer." It's actually what he prefers.

He still wonders where she's from and why she's so willing to walk with a stranger toward the city. Steve looks away from her and attempts to think it over. "You're probably the longest conversation I've had so far since I got here." He chuckles a little. "Still haven't gotten used to this place."

Mikayla smiled at the compliment. "Thank you. And thank you for allowing me to use your first name, Steve." Now /that/ was a strange word. In fact, it was the first time in her life she'd ever said it. It felt weird. "Interesting name... You're not from around here, are you? This country, I mean. Oh, and please do call me by Mikayla. I've a few bad memories that come from being called 'Miss Silverblood'..."

"Is that so? Not much of a social man, Steve? I'd think the opposite of you... At least with the women folk. Have you not visited any pubs, yet?" Those were the greatest places to strike a conversation, learn about things, and occasionally pick up another worth keeping. They were civil places here. Mikayla had gone there several times in the past, and developed many regulars from that place. She was well-known there, as well, and sometimes, it was the men who approached her, instead of the other way around.

Steve chuckles a little when she asks if he's not from around here. He obviously stands out a lot because he's been asked that so many times. "No," he answers. "I'm not from around here at all." He looks at her again and nods at her request. "I apologize then. I'll call you by Mikayla then."

As they keep walking and she speaks more, Steve looks straight ahead toward the streets. They're not far from the busier part of the city, that's for sure. It's going to be time to part ways, sooner than he actually thought. To her questions, he chuckles again but more lowly this time. "I am a social man. I do like to interact with others. . ." He pauses in reference to the women. "As for women, well. . .it hasn't been really simple for me to speak with them. They do speak to me, especially in some of the pubs I've actually visited. . ."

It's just that Steve used to be a lot smaller than this. He used to be very thin, almost emaciated. Women were never his strongpoint. Even after he took the serum and became this embodiment of perfect physicality, he still kept to his humble ways.

"The pubs are entertaining but it doesn't seem simple to establish any comradery with anyone around here." Not like before. Steve used to be able to befriend people just by visiting a bar. That was in the 40s though. Today, it appears like people want to get on with their lives and not be bothered much.

Mikayla gave him a look. "Well, you haven't been to Marcus' pub! The Little Lady... Friendliest place here in Massa, and Massa's a very friendly little town. God, you can hook up a friend or a lover just by looking at them right. He keeps it old, there... even plays old films." She sighed, lost in... something. "I remember when the movie 'Rebecca' first came out... I saw it then. It was great, great movie. He still plays it there, sometimes."

Her eyes lit up, and almost instantly, she was back to her normal self - ice-blue eyes and no fangs. She looked at him and smiled. "You should visit The Little Lady, Steve. You might pick up some new friends, learn new things. Maybe I'll run into you there one day. He also serves one of the top ten beer names in there."

Then she gave him a look. "You know, you can talk to us just like you can another man. We're just people. It's not like the fourties or something where we're all at home tending the children and the house..." She shuddered, as if personally remembering that specific decade and not liking the memories. "Thank God that stopped... Would've been nicer if it stopped before it did, but the sixties isn't so late..."

There you go, Mikayla, just rambling on about a time period that a nineteen year old could not possibly have experienced... Good thing she wasn't actually only nineteen, and that he wasn't your 'average ordinary everyday kid'.

Steve smiles as she speaks about this pub. His face lights up a little more as she speaks of Rebecca. He does recall wanting to see that movie back in the days when he was a skinny little guy. He wanted to go with a young woman but she didn't give him the time of day. He didn't really get the chance to see it, not because of the woman but because he was more interested in helping out in the war. So he watched more military movies.

Steve is so distracted with that at first that he doesn't realize that she's speaking about a movie that came out in his time. He doesn't notice the fact that she said that she _remembers_ when 'Rebecca' came out. It flies over his head (for now) that it isn't possible for her to have been alive in that time.

Then again, it looks impossible for him too. . .

"That pub sounds very fun," Steve says. "Sounds like my kind of thing." He chuckles a little bit. He might just stop by that pub after this little walk with her. He can use some relaxation like that.

When Mikayla speaks about women, Steve listens to her and smiles a little bit. It is funny that she mentions the 40s out of all decades. It's almost like she knows it's his home time. He does find it surprising that things aren't like that anymore. Women now have jobs and are more out and about. The idea is so bizarre to him.

At first, Steve is thinking that she's talking about the time period like someone who's an expert on history. But then he backtracks a little bit. "How do you know so much about this?" he asks with the smile still on his face. "Did you spend a lot of time reading about that?"

If only he paid attention to the fact that she said that she _remembered_.

"Experience," Mikayla replied without really thinking. "History omits some of the best little details all the time... With reading about it you only get so much... The true color and feel of the occasion comes from experiencing it, because then you have something special stored that historians and people that read history books don't have."

She looked at his face, and chuckled softly, then got an idea. "Would you like me to walk you there, so you at least know where it is when you want to visit?" She liked him. She always liked men who were different... That, and she was almost drooling at the scent of his blood still. Anything that could prolong their time together, she would do. Other than Marcus, he was the only man that had treated her other than her occupation for a long time. Of course, with Marcus it was a completely different story, but it was still refreshing.

There was yet another reason she was offering to take him to the pub. Marcus looked only about thirty, but he was born in 1910. Meaning he'd be able to help Steve as well with knowledge about everything that had happened since. Mikayla hadn't visited the man in a while, either, and out of all the men she'd ever been with, he was undoubtedly her favorite. But he wasn't the one she wanted to be with, or she would have quit trading sex for blood decades ago.

Their surroundings changed. They had now left the residential area and were entering the main part of the city. Which wasn't all that big. The buildings were small and cozy-looking. She turned to Steve for his decision, whether they were to part ways soon or she was to lead him to The Little Lady. She was going there anyway, but introducing someone new to Marcus was always fun.

Steve's eyes stay on her as she keeps speaking. Experience? Is she in a similar situation to him? Time traveler? A mutant that ages slowly? He doubts that she was frozen in ice like he was. She speaks about the past as though she lived it, or witnessed it firsthand in some other method.

Maybe there's a new technology that allows that?

Steve almost questions this but she asks something that stops him. He smiles a little at her and then nods. "Sure, that'd be great, Mikayla. I'd like it if you walked me there." He smiles more and then faces straight ahead so that he can remember these surroundings. He can't believe that a woman is this comfortable around him. Sure, many more women approached him after he became Captain America but it's still an odd fact for him that a woman will want to walk arm-in-arm with him like this.

Once the silence falls for some time, Steve clears his throat lightly and looks at her. He's about to ask her again but then he realizes that they're in a different area. He turns away and looks at all the buildings. "Which one is the Little Lady?" he asks, glancing back at her. No, he doesn't want to part ways with her, especially not after all those words she just spoke. She's become that much more mysterious to him.

Nope. No new, awesome technology that does that. Though that would be amazing, wouldn't it?

Mikayla grinned her set of pearly whites, and led him forward a little white longer, then pointed to a building that was styled different than the others. It didn't look much different structurally, as all these buildings were _originals_ from when the town was built - somewhere around 1225 - but the outer lights were different, the roof had additions the others didn't, and the door was something to look at. All other doors were soft colors - dark greens and blues, browns, and even a peach down on the end of the street. But this one was a nice, bright red, with 'The Little Lady' painted in pretty curling gold letters. The semi-frosted windows cast off a warm glow from the lights inside, and smoke curled up from the chimney.

She led him inside. "Steve, meet the Little Lady. She says 'Hi', by the way. This is Marcus - life-time owner and Pub Whisperer."

Mikayla led him to a man that looked quite like Steve below the neck - pretty much physically perfect. Stubble graced his jaw, and connected to his slicked black hair, framing his face. His pale brow and groomed eyebrows sat perfectly over cutting icy-blue eyes. The same eyes that Mikayla had as well. Both being Italian, and looking rather alike, with the exact same eyes, everyone assumed they were related. Of course that wasn't true. "Marcus, I would like you to meet Stephon Rogers. Steve, this is Marcus Khyte."

The bartender grinned, and after sticking a strong but pleasant-smelling cigar firmly between his lips, offered a hand, grinning. "_E 'un piacere conoscerti signore_. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. Welcome to The Little Lady, finest pub in Massa Marritima, opened by my family in 1873. What can I get you?"

As was custom in Massa, Marcus touched his lips to Mikayla's cheeks briefly, a friendly hello, then another to her forehead as she sat. That wasn't custom, and it was the same kind of kiss that a very good friend, father, or brother might give. That was just his special way of saying hello. "Marcus, what movie's on tonight?"

"Hm... good question... Old Americans are always the best. I'll give you and the good sir a choice." He smiled at Steve. "Casablanca or Rebecca?"

Steve looks at the buildings again. They're so old-fashioned. He feels like he really is in another time period, which he is but the thing is: he feels like he's in the past instead of the future. He almost chuckles out loud at this thought but he doesn't because Mikayla leads him to the Little Lady. He smiles when she speaks and introduces him to Marcus. Steve looks over him and notices that he has a striking resemblance to Mikayla. He too thinks that they're related but he doesn't voice that opinion.

Instead, he shakes the man's hand in a firm grip and says, "Pleasure to meet you too, sir. It's great to be here." Steve would automatically think that this man served in the military based on how he's built. It's his 1940s mentality. Usually built men in that time period were some sort of fighters.

To Marcus's question, Steve answers, "A glass of whiskey will be just fine, please." He then watches as Mikayla and Marcus greet each other. He rubs his hands together and looks around again. So this is where they show the movies too. That's very different to how Steve saw movies back in his day. He smiles at the look of the place. He really does like it so far. Mikayla was right.

"Oh," Steve says after the question is asked. "Casablanca please. I never had the opportunity to see it." He remains standing until Mikayla sits down. Of course it's custom for him to do that as a gentleman. He moves forward and sits right beside her. Looking at her, he says, "Thank you very much for taking me here."

Steve would have thought right. Only a century in years, turned at thirty, Marcus had left Italy for America in Steve's decade, blending in because everyone thought he was from there. He'd fought, done well, and come home quite decorated. In fact, his medals hung in the back behind the bar, behind a pane of glass but in front of a rich burgundy velvet. His posture was ramrod straight, his movements neat and brisk. There was no clutter in the Little Lady, everything was spotlessly clean. The glasses shone. One could see their reflection in the polished cherry bar-top.

The people already there talked in a low, warm, friendly buzz. There were a few drunks, but they were kept in check by their friends, and laughter was a common thing to hear. It really was a great place to be. Marcus set Steve's glass down in front of him, smiling, then gave Mikayla her drink. The woman smiled, her eyes shining brightly. "Oh, you're very welcome. The Little Lady is always the first stop for age-appropriate tourists."

He was so much like Marcus in manners and actions that it was almost painful for her to be in his company. But that was what was keeping her there, as well. It was so refreshing to be able to spend time with a man other than Marcus and not have a duty to fulfill afterward. Not that she wouldn't mind, not with him, but that wouldn't happen and she knew it. It had taken her quite a while to get Marcus. She knew that, if she were to try, it would take even longer with this man. First, this question.

"Do you have anyone special in your life, Steve? We've many a place to buy trinkets and keepsakes for the lucky lady on a man's arm."

She already felt herself falling back. Not physically, but... her ways. She found it harder to just throw the word 'honey' or 'sugar' or any other loving pet-name out. Her 'perfect girl' was coming out, the one her father had literally beat into her nearly six centuries previous. The girl Marcus had brought out for a decade or two. Personally... she didn't mind it. She preferred this Mikayla. But like a strong-willed drug addict given unrestricted access to their poison of choice, she caved to her more... carnal ways, off and on. More on than off.

She looked to her right as the screen rolled down and Marcus started getting the movie ready, hoping he would answer before it started. No one talked during the movies except couples, because they could get close enough to each other to whisper quietly enough. The opportunity wasn't open to them, as that wasn't the case, and she was rather curious to know.

Steve feels very comfortable in this place. He likes the atmosphere a lot. It's pristine and relaxing. He really means it when he thanks her for taking him. He looks toward some of the other patrons and smiles a little when he hears them laugh. Then he takes the whiskey when it's handed to him. He thanks Marcus with a nod and sips from it. Oh, that's good. That's really good. He's missed the taste.

Steve looks at Mikayla again as she responds to his thanks. He smiles at her and sips from the whiskey again. There is still that mystery factor in her that draws him in. He doesn't know what it is but for a couple moments, it makes him almost forget about Peggy and the fact that he won't see her again. It's the first time this has happened since he woke up here. Of course he doesn't realize this as he drinks some more whiskey.

But ironically enough, Peggy returns right to his thoughts when Mikayla asks if he has anyone special in his life.

Pausing, Steve holds the glass in midair and then lowers it to the counter. He keeps his hand wrapped around it as his eyes fall toward the polished counter. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he pictures Peggy's face. His mind flashes back to her photograph that he kept in his locket. It was the last thing he saw before he crash-landed in the ice caps. Her voice was the last one he heard. She was the first and last kiss he received.

Steve tries not to let these thoughts reflect on his face, so he looks back at Mikayla again and cracks a weak smile. "No," he answers softly. "Not anymore." The fact that Peggy now has a grave sends a pang through his chest. He finishes the whiskey and then sets the empty glass on the counter again. It's at that moment when he realizes that the movie is being set up.

The smile he had brought onto her face died instantly at his weak one. Her eyes lost a little of their cheerful luster. She knew what it was like to not have that special someone anymore, and she sighed, wishing she hadn't touched the subject. Before the movie started, she reached out and touched his arm softly. "I'm sorry... I won't bring it up again."

Her touch, as before, was quite chilling, but this time it was also comforting. Something of use that came of being a vampyre. She drew her hand back, smiling slightly, then watched the movie, her face hidden behind her drink glass almost the whole time. She'd seen all the movies he showed, and most of them just reminded her how lonely she was if she watched them. Instead, if the glass wasn't in front of her face, her eyes were on him. She looked at Marcus as he walked up, taking Steve's glass and asking if he wanted another fill. After his response, he turned to Mikayla, and muttered, "D'you have him for the reason I think?"

She took time thinking about it. "I don't know anymore... I don't want to hurt him."

Marcus chuckled, then laughed softly. "Hurt him... Mikayla, if you get anything like you were with me, you couldn't hurt him if the Hulk were helping you throw your arm!"

That earned him a smack that sounded a lot more solid than it should have for the feeble effort put into it. She then put her hand to her stomach, feeling the faint blood-driven growl in it. She could easily surprise and subdue him right then and there, leaning in from behind, covering his mouth, and feeding. No one else - save Marcus - would know what happened. But that would undoubtedly drive Steve away, and she didn't want that. So instead, after the movie, she asked another question, this one less painful she hoped. "Steve, do you have anywhere to stay here? casa di Silverblood has rooms to spare if you don't..."

Mikayla didn't know how he'd take that, seeing as 'casa' meant 'home' and Silverblood was her last name. She was offering a room in her home. It wasn't often people would do that after meeting them on the street and then taking them to a bar _unless_ they had an ulterior motive. While she _did_ have one, it could wait a few days yet...

At the feel of her hand on his arm, Steve looks at Mikayla. He doesn't respond with words. Instead, he smiles a little bit. She can ask all about it if she wants but he doesn't mention that. Perhaps it's because he's not ready to, which he should be. He might not think he's strong enough to talk about it when that should be the case. He has to talk about it. He has to let it all out to someone and move on after what happened to him.

Her touch is indeed chilling but Steve doesn't take too much notice of that right now. He only moves his eyes from her and looks toward the movie. He watches it mindlessly, still thinking of the 40s again. As a matter of fact, this movie helps him think on his own past. Time keeps going and when he's asked if he wants another fill, he gives a nod and a quiet thanks. Then he rests his arms on the counter while keeping his eyes on the film.

Steve doesn't even notice Marcus and Mikayla speaking. He's in his own world at the moment. He registers only bits and pieces of what's going on in Casablanca. Then he thinks he hears the sound of someone hitting another. He takes a look over his shoulder but doesn't see anything so he focuses on the movie again.

A lot more time passes before it's finally over. Steve lowers his glance and takes his other whiskey. He's lost count on how many he's drank already. It really is a shame that he can't get drunk. "Thank you," he says with a light smile. "The film was great... although the ending..." He chuckles a little bit and doesn't mention that the ending hits a little close to home, especially since the the couple can't be together.

Steve looks at Mikayla again and hears her question. He's stayed in hotels ever since he arrived here. He's been used to it so far. He doesn't know what _casa_ means, so he thinks that she's offering him a fancy-named hotel. He might as well stay so that he doesn't have to walk all the way back. So he gives a nod and a smile. "That would be great. Thanks again. You've been very kind to me, Mikayla. I'll pay you back in any way that I can, even if you don't want me to." He gives her more of a genuine smile this time and finishes the whiskey. What he just told her came directly from his heart. He's truly sincere about it.

Mikayla was actually very glad he said that. It was definite that she would give him a few more days before asking, but him saying that made it all the easier to think about it. He brought a smile to her lips, her eyes getting bright again. "Great! We'll leave when you're ready. Marcus, thanks for the drinks and movie." Out of her 'extra pocket' she pulled out her wallet, and then paid him for both their drinks, plus quite a bit extra - tip, and a few more glasses in case either got thirsty. They both should have been drunk by that point ... but he was incapable and she would have to drink every drop in the building.

When it came time to leave, Mikayla and Marcus exchanged kisses again, then she left with Steve, and started leading him to casa di Silverblood. Oddly enough, back toward a residential district, only different than the one they'd met in. It was obvious the wealthier lived there. This casa di Silverblood was not easy to miss, being the largest in that area. The gates were grand and intricate, the top half hidden in hanging ivy, any flowers and color lost in the night. Beyond the gates was a courtyard claimed by nature, but in a beautiful way, kept neat and trim, especially by the koi pond and waterfall in the middle, the scales of the fish reflecting the moonlight. The doors - great sheets of cherry polished and carved with dragons and birds - swung open silently, and she led him inside. The floors were a dark green stone, the furnishings stained maple, the walls half white and half wood.

A gentle-looking elderly man took extra articles of clothing, bowing slightly to them both as he went and hung them. "Welcome to casa di Silverblood, Stephon Rogers, home to the Silverblood family for over seven centuries. Are you hungry? Tired? If you had anything at where ever you were staying before you can have Giovanni fetch it for you. As for now, we could go pick out a room for you, or get something to eat, or... whatever it is you want or need."

Mikayla smiled warmly, watching him for a reaction. She had a feeling he thought she was leading him to another hotel. This was sort of a hotel... the casa had twenty large bedrooms and ten smaller ones. All but the Master - which was easily classified as four rooms itself - were empty. Leonardo, the elderly gent, lived on the other side of the house, despite her insisting, and Giovanni and the others lived in their own homes in a different residential district. It was very lonely there, despite all the modern ways of communicating with other people. Another reason she wanted him to stay there way she _knew_ then he wasn't even from that time period, and education opportunities were abundant there, from the library to the game room to the kitchen. And yet another... a few days there and her request might not seem so hard to make.

Steve also thanks Marcus for the drinks and film. He looks over as Mikayla pulls out the wallet. Then he turns away right after she does. Well, the first reason should be obvious. The other reason is because he's not very comfortable that a woman is paying for him. A gentleman should always treat the lady, he believes. He doesn't have much money on him though. That's why he doesn't voice his opinion.

Steve thanks her again as they leave. He's got to admit that he enjoyed his time there. He'd go back again if the time called for it. As Mikayla leads him to the residential district, he starts to look around. This is a lot more than he expected. He chuckles a little and notices how beautiful everything is. "You sure they'll have me here?" he asks a little jokingly. He likes all the nature touches to this place. It seems like it's built from serenity itself. Everything in this area - from the Little Lady to this area - seems to have been built to perfection.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea for Steve to have been wandering earlier.

Steve walks inside the place with Mikayla. He releases a soft breath as he takes in the interior. It's all so majestic to him. He really can't thank her enough. He's very grateful to her right now. He can't believe he was actually suspicious of her earlier.

When the older man bows to them, Steve is about to speak but then he stops, shocked that the man knows his name. Mikayla couldn't have told him, could she? He pauses, trying to process all the questions directed to him. He doesn't want to miss anything that the man says but he can't get over the fact that his full name was just spoken. Maybe the man's heard of Captain America?

"I see you already know my name," Steve says with a small smile. "I'm not very hungry, sir. I do thank you for asking. If I can see what room I'm staying in, I'd be most appreciative."

So far, everyone here seems nice. This makes Steve a lot more comfortable. He looks at Mikayla again and smiles in her direction, mostly because he's so thankful to her. Then he looks back at the elderly man and waits to see what happens next. He likes it very much here. Ever since meeting with Mikayla, a lot of heaviness has been taken off his mind.

The elder gent smiled. "My father holds a high fascination with people like you, Mr. Rogers, sir. He is a lot like you himself."

Mikayla could have faceplanted the floor if she knew it wouldn't draw attention. He didn't say 'was'. He said 'is'. Meaning he was still alive... with Leonardo being eighty himself, there was absolutely _no_ way that his father could still be alive. She sighed, hoping Steve didn't notice, then smiled. "C'mon. I'll take you to the rooms and you can pick one out. Leonardo, would you be a dear and grab Steve some bed linens? Thank you."

And they were off. She took him down a long hallway, then turned to the right down another one. Approximately every thirty feet, there was a door. It was like perusing apartments. She stopped after the first set. "Alright... here's a little map of the house... well, this half anyway. This whole hallway is rooms. The other end... rooms. Had we continued going straight, you would have found my room... Just... pick any one of these, then call Leonardo on the intercom and tell him the door number. He will find you with your night linens, and a small placard with your name on it to slide in the holder on the door to make it known that room is yours."

She smiled, and motioned to all the rooms. "They're all really built the same. The location of the bathroom alters from left to right, with the two behind us having them on the left of the rooms. Um... a few of them are completely furnished, the rest only have a bed, wardrobe, and bathroom necessities... y'know, toilet, shower/bath, sink, that kind of stuff."

She led him to one of them, and opened it, to give him an example. This one happened to be completely furnished. King-sized bed with navy blue sheets and white bed curtains, and rich navy blue carpets, disappearing at the front of the bathroom door to white tile. The cabinet-sink in there was blue wood, blue marble top, and a white sink. The other bathroom furnishings were white as well. The wardrobe, desk, chairs, and fanblades in that room were stained maple. "This is a pretty good example..."

Mikayla leaned against the door frame, a sad expression falling over her face. She smiled weakly. "It's been so lonely here... I'm glad you decided to stay and not go back. You can stay here as long as you'd like... And if you leave, your room will always be open." Another weak smile... then watery eyes were turned back to the room.

When the man mentions his own father, Steve smiles. He's so into the fact that his name is somewhat known that he barely realizes that the man speaks about the father in the present tense. Well, he doesn't realize it at first. He scrunches one eyebrow and is about to say something but Mikayla beats him to it. He looks at her and then starts to walk with her after she speaks.

As Steve walks through the place and listens to what she says, he can't help but feel that it's like they're welcoming him into a house. Everything's going to be so personalized now. It surprises him a little but it also makes him feel good. As his glance moves around, he chuckles in the middle of Mikayla's words. "This is only half?"

How big is this place really? It's so grand and appears built to perfection. Steve tries not to get too distracted with it. Otherwise, he can lose track to what she's explaining. He moves down the hallway and then stops in the room she shows him. He takes a step in, immediately liking it.

Steve doesn't know how long he plans to stay. Although this life is different, he knows he has to try and move on somehow. Maybe he can go to the military and speak with them. They might be able to set him back on track. Staying here would only help him in making his decision to move forward.

So when Mikayla makes her last comment, Steve notices a slight sadness in her. He doesn't know where it comes from of course. He just takes a step forward in her direction. He stands right in front of the doorway where she's leaning.

"I'll probably be here for a bit of time, until I can get my head straight. Again, I have to thank you for all of this. You've been the most helpful person in a while." Steve smiles a bit. "You sure you'll be able to handle my presence for that long?"

Mikayla chuckled. "Well... technically, this hallway is only a quarter of this first floor. There are three floors above us. The other quarter is more rooms. There are twenty rooms this size here."

She smiles at his question. It was a sad smile, but it was followed by a laugh. "These rooms have not been loved for over two centuries... Other than cleaning. Fresh sheets every month and a new mattress every two years... But the beds have not been slept on for that long. The toilets and other bathroom furnishings have been updated every five years... This house has not seen visitations from friendly faces ever since Leonardo was born..." And here comes the slip: "I've been watching this house grow colder and colder ever since my parents died. The last person I had the grace of hosting was Leonardo's mother... she died in childbirth."

Hold that thought... Leonardo was eighty years old. Mikayla looked somewhere between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two. How in the world could she have hosted a woman sixty years before she was born? Mikayla clammed up after, looking rather nervous and frightened, her already pale skin seeming even paler. She put a hand to her chest, and swore her heart beat was loud enough to be heard by others. She looked arond quickly, mouth agape but silent, then put her finger to a small white box with a black square and rectangular buttons. "Alright... this is the intercom. It's in the same place in every room... Once you find your room, you press and hold the button with the L on it, and he will be told what room to bring your stuff to... Or... If you'd prefer to tell him yourself, just press it... give him a few moments to find an intercom and he will listen and respond."

She cleared her throat, and looked around again, then offered the younger man a smile, her hands running down her sides and thighs - nervous habit. "Well... find a room... no color is repeated, and if you happen to like an unfurnished one I can easily have others moved, as all of the things are stained maple wood and therefore interchangeable. Or I could order some of your choice, if you don't like maple. If... If you like this one, there are already clothes your size in the wardrobe, bottom left drawer... Um... yeah, that should be it... If you have any questions, my room is down the way we came and to the right."

She turned to leave to go verbally abuse herself... well, verbally at the least. Her unease was evident in her eyes, and in the way she was suddenly trying to get away from him. But then she turned back. "The four remotes in the container each control something different. The long silver one controls the flatscreen. The short white one the fan and lights. The thin black one will control both the blinds and the radio, depending on which you point it at. Finally, the fat grey one controls the DVD player..."

With that, Mikayla turned on her heel, and walked down the hall.

* * *

_**Just in case you have forgotten, please, review your idea of a title. Thank you!**_


	2. Getting to Know You

As Steve stands in the doorway, he watches Mikayla leave. He has so many things he wants to say but he can feel the uneasiness in her voice. Maybe she wants to do something or perhaps she's trying to get comfortable in his presence. Whatever it is, he hopes it isn't some sort of trick because he's already growing fond of her.

Steve also stands there with questions swirling in his head. Firstly, what is a DVD player? He hasn't heard of a flatscreen. Most of these things are too hi-tech for him. He'll figure out how to use them eventually. He did pay attention.

Lastly, how is Mikayla able to recount details from so long ago? Steve wondered that when she mentioned 'Rebecca.' He also wondered it when she spoke of Leonardo's mother. Perhaps she noticed his puzzled look. That might be why she wanted to get away so fast.

With a sigh, Steve closes the door and steps into the room again. He might as well stay with this one. He likes it that much. He walks toward the bed and starts to feel new thoughts enter his head. These thoughts don't surround Peggy for now. They're focused on a different woman. . .

. . .Mikayla.

She's still mysterious and her words cause Steve to wonder if she might be a spy or an enemy. He hopes she isn't. He can see himself wanting to talk to her more. Although he might be a little awkward around women, once he opens up and gets comfortable, he finds himself enjoying their company.

Steve lays down on the bed and stares up at the ceiling. Will this be another night where he has trouble sleeping? Or will he finally get the rest he needs? With new thoughts entering his head, he can't imagine what the following days will bring.

The following days - or, day, really - were quiet. Mikayla's door remained locked for a full forty-eight hours. But she forced herself out after leaving the poor man 'stranded' for a full day, and knocked on his door at about ten in the morning, hoping that - being a military man - he'd be up. "Steve...? It's Mikayla... obviously," she added with a half-chuckle, clearing her throat. "I... just wanted to apologize for running off like that. I wasn't in the right, not with you so obviously confused and new here... If you haven't eaten yet I'll gladly answer any questions you may have over breakfast? I'll cook... Do you like omelettes? Pancakes and bacon? You name it I can probably whip it up..."

She smiled softly at him, her eyes warm and... well, different. Definitely not icy-blue. Now they looked more like a seriously-deluded grape slushy. She was paler than before, too. Not too badly, but it was still noticeable. And... was it possible she was thinner? She cleared her throat, and looked down, wearing loose white pants and a becoming black blouse, her hair pulled back in a sloppy pony tail. Her eyes were red and irritated, signs that she'd been crying, but also dull. She'd gotten hardly any sleep. "Kitchen's this way..."

She led him down the hallway, then back to the left. Through two more doors and another hall that was artistically spaced with /priceless/ pieces. Finally, into a kitchen worthy of Ramsey himself. It was massive, looking capable of easily holding a host of chefs /and/ those who would soon be dining. The island in the middle was a stove, a sink, and a cutting block all in one, with the stove top and block taking up about seventy-five percent of space and the sink on the end. Again, stained maple wood, but the flooring was black and the counter tops were polished forest green marble. All cookware and utensils and dishes were black with silver lines on them. Appliances were black and silver as well.

Mikayla turned her gaze to him, and smiled. "Does the young man know how to cook, or shall the lady do it for him? Because I certainly will if you don't know how to help. But I will require you learn... which means helping anyway." Enter the laugh. She walked further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter in front of the in-counter double-well sink, crossing her arms and giving him a look. Marcus hadn't known how to cook when she first came across him, but she'd definitely taught him. Now, aside from herself, he was the best cook she could find.

Steve spent his first day there by getting to know the place. He wanted to familiarize himself with everything so that he wouldn't be confused about anything. He set aside the fact that this world is futuristic now. He focused more on getting used to everything. He hoped to see Mikayla around but he didn't, so he stepped out of the place for the night and wandered around for a bit. He read a couple books afterward and spent the next day learning more about the casa di Silverblood. He spoke to Leonardo for a bit and then stayed in his room to read about WWII. He had to know what he missed so that things could make a bit more sense.

Steve had fallen asleep with a book over his chest. He hears a knock at his door. He opens his eyes and quickly sits up, causing the book to fall. It's ten. He should have been up a while ago. He had been up all night, so he had been exhausted. Hearing Mikayla's voice outside the door, he stands up. He walks in his plain white t-shirt and khakis to the door. He opens it and smiles a bit. "Good morning," he says. "Glad to see you're still around."

Steve listens to her apology but is a little distracted by her different eye color. He wonders if anything's wrong with her. He doesn't ask though. He just says, "That's alright. We can definitely go eat now and talk then." He smiles in return and runs his hand through his hair, which is probably messy right now. Judging by how she looks, he hopes she's alright.

Following her down the hallway, Steve looks over at her. She did say he can ask questions later, so he doesn't say anything yet. He only chuckles at her question. "Actually I do know how to cook. Learned it since I used to stay alone often." He smiles again. "It'd be my pleasure to cook the both of us breakfast. It's the least I can do for you as a sign of my thanks." He looks around the fancy kitchen, which he visited during the two days that she was absent. "What would the lovely lady like? Whatever you want, I'll be fine with."

It's true. For one thing, Steve isn't a picky eater.

Mikayla chuckled softly. "Good morning to you. Of course I'm still around. I've nowhere else to go... I... just wish I'd been around more. Sorry for leaving you poor man fending for yourself," she joked, smiling slightly.

And, well... that shocked her. Enough that for a moment she couldn't say anything, nor did she try, but her face was comical enough. "Well," she finally got out. "That's an unexpected yet pleasant surprise... You knowing how to cook, I mean. Another surprise is that you were alone... /That/ I have a hard time believing."

She removed her presence from the immediate kitchen area, leaning against the table in the other half of the room, feeling heat lightly kiss her cheeks and leave them a rather pretty pink, distracting from her more-gaunt appearance. She wondered if she could muster the guts to tell him today. "I'm feeling... eggs. Anything more specific is up to you. Surprise me... You haven't done enough of that yet," she added with a gentle laugh, playing with her hair, braiding the thick mane. "The kitchen shouldn't be too hard to navigate, but I'll help nonetheless. Pots and pans are hanging above the island, in case you're blind... Utensils are in the drawer under the chopping block. Food is in the fridge, knives are on top and in the rack hanging on the wall next to it.."

She chuckled, then sat on the table top, crossing her legs and resting her arms on her knees. This would be interesting to watch. Only other man she'd ever watched cook was Marcus, but... she really needed to get him off her mind. She'd left for a reason... "So, Steve... I have one question for you. Then you can fire _any_ question you like at me, no matter how personal they seem, and as many as you want. I owe you answers for my... absence. Here's my question..."

"When exactly are you from? I know you're at least not from this decade... nor this century. You're too confused for that. Too... you're too nice. You're like Marcus. So when are you from?" She'd wanted to ask that since she'd met him. His not immediately jumping for her made that nice and clear. But she'd bided her time, and was asking now that the question was gnawing at her.

Steve chuckles at her little jokes, even when she says that she'll have a hard time believing that he was alone. Oh, he was alone most of the time before joining the Army. He only had one good friend. After he became Captain America, sure women flocked to him, but he was still awkward around them. He doesn't think he knows how to speak with one still. Peggy was one of few who he felt comfortable speaking with. It's because she never saw him as the frail man he once was.

As Mikayla explains the details of the kitchen, Steve smiles and gets the supplies he needs. It doesn't take him very long since he's rather quick. She wants eggs, so he'll add on to that a little. He doesn't specify what he's cooking. He only starts preparing as she asks the question to him. He gives her quick looks over his shoulder while she talks.

To her words, Steve pauses for a moment, slowing down in his actions. He avoids eye contact with her as he thinks of what she says. She wants to know what time period he's from. For her to ask that, it means that she really isn't normal. She must be no stranger to time travel or. . .she must know about him. This returns him to the idea that she might be a spy or she can be working for the current Army. They might have sent her to find him. It makes sense because this can be their way of getting him back in the world, helping him get used to it all.

Steve hesitates to answer her. She did say that she would answer anything he had to ask, which is a lot. He keeps on preparing the breakfast meal as an empty smile crosses his face. It's empty because he's trying not to feel weird about all of this. "This does confirm my thoughts about you not being a regular woman," he says first. "I would never imagine anyone coming up and asking me that. I guess if I can ask you questions, I can answer yours."

It's better to know more about the person staying in the same place as you, right?

Steve focuses on the breakfast meal and soon goes to the stove as he starts to speak. "I'm from the World War II era. 1940s. Well, I was born in 1920. Last thing I clearly remember before waking up here was fighting against Nazis. I then wake up and find out that the War is over." He sighs lightly and tries not to think of the comrades he lost. "You telling me that I'm too nice only explains more about the people of this time."

Steve chuckles a little and starts to cook the food while preparing something to the side.

Mikayla chuckled softly, then sighed. "I _wish_ I was 'regular'... I do so wish. But I suppose being different has its perks. I get to meet people like you and Marcus, for one... 1920? Hmm... That makes you only a decade younger than Marcus..." She then laughed softly. "Oh, it's a pity you and he didn't meet first... Although I suppose it is good that you two have at least met."

You'd think if she was a spy, or working with the current army, that she'd know more about him, not just the fact that he wasn't from that time. The more information given, the better results, right? Besides. She was too dense at times to be a spy, although with her unique ability she would nevertheless make a great one. She wasn't so much familiar with time travel as she was with just passing it, though. However, she had heard of him, thanks to Marcus and his fascination with people like him... And she shuddered with his memories. She didn't remember _fighting_ them, but she sure remembered them. "It's sad, really, what the last few decades have done to humanity... Headed deeper and deeper down into the pit of destruction. I'm waiting for WWIII to start. I know it will happen. With how people are anymore, there is no way the big wars are over..."

She watched him, sitting cross-legged on the table, then sniffed the air and smiled, resting her cheek on a hand. "It's not often I get to smell food and watch it get prepared and cooked without knowing what exactly I'm getting. I mean... Leonardo used to cook for me... but he's gotten a little too ripe in age to cook anymore. He has trouble seeing, you know? But he's still kicking, and I have a feeling he will be for longer yet."

Suddenly a depressing thought passed through her mind. Eighty years she had lived with that man, raising him herself when his mother died. She couldn't imagine what the house would be like with no Leonardo. She cleared her throat, and shook the thought from her head, then looked at him, smiling. "Alright, your turn. Fire away... Just make sure to give me enough time to answer."

To answer truthfully, that is. She'd been lying her way through life for as long as she could remember. She was in the right to lie, but she still didn't like doing it. Telling the truth... for each question, she told herself, she would tell him the truth. If he left, then she'd be alone with Leonardo. If not, it would help her carry the burden of what she was a little more happily, with having someone else that wasn't already one of her kind know what she was. Aside from Leonardo.

Leonardo knew everything.

Listening to everything that she says, Steve remains silent. He has to take this all in and try to make sense of it. He has to dissect her words so that he knows that this isn't a trap. It would be a real shame if it was all a trap. Mikayla appears like a very nice woman, one who he would like to stay in contact with. If she turns out to be someone who's part of a bigger game, that would be disheartening.

At the mention of a possible third World War, Steve almost winces. He doesn't want to think of that. Of course if another war does start, he wouldn't hesitate to take part in it. He would try and find his Captain America outfit and help the others fight off the enemies. That's for certain. Ironically that would get him back in the world.

He has to get that thought out of his head.

Steve smiles at her comment about the food. All of it is almost done. He gets the plates ready as she finishes her words. He briefly glances at her over his shoulder and lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he starts to speak. "I'll admit, what you said is a lot to take in. . .but I suppose I've recently handled worse."

He hasn't exactly mentioned that he woke up to this era and didn't witness the past seventy years.

While Steve starts to serve the eggs on each plate, he finally speaks. "How are you and Marcus so. . ." No, he can't ask it like that. ". . .how is it possible that you two have witnessed so much? How can Marcus be a decade older than me and look like that? How can you be older? I doubt it's because of my same reason. You know a lot more than me about current events."

Steve also wants to know what her real reason is for taking him here. She might genuinely be trying to be nice but. . . Oh man, the questions keep piling on. Why does she look like something's wrong with her or has been bothering her? She did tell him to give her time to answer so he does that. He's ready for whatever answer she's about to give him.

While Steve gives her the time to reply, he sets the full plate of breakfast down on the table. It contains eggs, crepes, and a couple pancakes. To the side lies a plate of French toast and regular toast. Once he places it down, he goes to get some orange juice.

Mention it or not, Mikayla knew. It was obvious, really, if you knew what to look for. At the beginning of his question, she laughs, sliding herself off the table, then sitting in a chair. Though there was plenty of room at that table for food, one wasn't supposed to sit _on_ the table anyway. "How are Marcus and I so old? Well... No. No, we weren't frozen. And before you can ask how I knew that, it's simple. You look twenty. You're not one of my kind, and you're certainly not the horrible other breeds. While humans have invented things that will slow the aging process... I don't think they can do it so well... Which means either external or internal - or both - cryo was used, preserving your looks and rendering you completely oblivious to outside events."

"Back to your question... It's a no-brainer that you've heard of vampires. Well, rest assured, because I am not one." Obviously. She nearly spat the word 'vampires', meaning she really did not like them. "Some call my kind the Elder Breed, others call vampires the Elder Breed. Doesn't matter, but... Vampyres (_**pronounced vamp-peer**_) came first. I am a vampyre. I was turned at the age of nineteen, and I have remained physically at that age ever since... Marcus is one, as well, which explains why he seems thirty but is, in actuality, two years over a century old. Marcus is also Leonardo's father... If you've digested that, next question." She didn't much like talking about what she was... most people thought it gross or unnatural and either fled or killed her...

Mikayla cleared her throat, looking away after mentioning that. It had slipped out. _Very_ few people knew that, and that was how Marcus wanted it kept. Whoops? She looked at the food, and blinked for a moment, then laughed softly. "My, my, someone's got a big stomach." She arched a brow. "Or you were hoping no more cooking would be required breakfast-wise for tomorrow."

The stomach is as big as a fist. Mikayla's fist was tiny, as she wasn't that big of a person. Even stretched, it didn't look that big. Unless he was _that_ hungry, she knew a good portion of what she'd been given would be going in plastic bags and resting for about eighteen to twenty-four hours on a shelf in the fridge, to be reopened and nuked or eaten cold the next morning.

Steve pours them both some orange juice as she begins to speak again. How does she know he was frozen? He could have been a time traveler. Her knowing so much still makes him feel a little weary. She might have also heard of him since she's lived for so long. Captain America had been an international icon seventy years ago.

Steve doesn't say anything yet though. He gives her some orange juice besides both her plates. Then he gets all of his food and doesn't sit at the table yet. He only does so after she does. He begins to eat and tries to take in more of what she says. A Vampyre. He's never heard of that before. Of course he knows what vampires are and he believes in them. Vampyres though, those are unfamiliar. How long ago was she turned? How much has she actually seen?

Steve takes a moment to say anything at all. It takes him longer to digest than normal. He starts to eat some of the eggs as he thinks it all over. So he's staying with a Vampyre who's older than everyone in this house. Can she hurt him? Probably? Can she kill him? Most likely. Should he be on edge? Well, it's kind of hard to put Captain America on edge but he's cautious. Either way, she's told him all of this for a reason.

Steve chuckles lightly when she remarks on the food. "My appetite is always strong," he tells her. He eats more eggs and thinks of what he wants to ask next. Should he ask why she's looked so sad recently? No, that might be too much, wouldn't it? Maybe he can ask that later.

"Is there anything in specific that you want from me?" Steve asks with a small chuckle. "I still appreciate your hospitality. I do still intend to pay you back for that but. . . Do you have any other intentions? I. . .I apologize if this seems out of line."

Steve looks at her and smiles again. He doesn't want to appear as though he sees her as a potential enemy now.

Could she hurt and kill him? Absolutely. Could he do the same to her? Of course... for a while, anywho. But neither of them intended to do either actions... She wouldn't dream of it. Had he asked either of those questions, the answers might have left him wanting. She knew exactly how long it had been since she received those circular scars on her neck, but as to seeing things... well. She hadn't left her little town of nine-thousand souls ever. And she never intended to. She didn't have a reason to travel.

Mikayla's face fell when he asked about paying her back. She slowly ate her eggs while thinking about the best way to word her response. "There is something specific, actually... Everyone knows a vampire must feed in order to live... Feed on blood. While they are capable of going 'vegetarian' - meaning they can feed from animals instead - vampyres... well, we're not. I... I wish I could say I invited you here purely out of my fascination of you and liking you and being the kind-hearted generous person I am... But..." She paused for a while, eyes cast aside. She almost looked ashamed of what she was saying, as if she had run over his dog, blamed it on someone else, and was now coming forth... like she'd done him some wrong already. "I... do in fact have other intentions in letting you stay here..."

"What I first noticed about you was the smell of your blood. That's... that sounds disgustingly kinky out loud, but it's true. It's intoxicating... Imagine your absolute favorite smell, then multiply the intensity and attraction by twenty-fold. That's how it smells to me. It's been very hard on me to... not bother you about it... In the Little Lady I was tempted to ask, but... And now, I am..."

More silence, but with her darting eyes and occasionally-opening mouth, it was obvious she wanted to say more. Finally: "But I'm not going to."

Five words that seemed to drain the life out of her. She smiled slightly, then cleared her throat and continued eating. After she'd eaten what she absolutely could, she cleared her throat again, looking at what she hadn't, which left all the toast but one piece. "Just so you know, you can allow yourself to rest easy... You're not going to wake up with bloody holes in your neck like I did... I've never forced it upon another and I'm certainly not going to force it on you."

She drank her orange juice, not even looking in his direction. She sighed, and forced a smile onto her face, then stood and took her plate to the sink, washing it off before putting it in the dishwasher, returning to the table after. For a moment, she merely stood next to her chair, then she sank into it and finally looked over at him.

Steve continues to eat while she speaks. He hasn't cooked in a while but he has to admit this is pretty good. It can also be because he's hungry. He eats one of the pancakes and then takes a sip of orange juice. When she mentions the fact that vampires must feed, he gets a bad feeling in his bones about this. He slows down in his eating, and glances up at her. He hopes she isn't going where he thinks she's going.

Bad news, Steve. She is.

Steve looks at her for a while as she mentions the 'vegetarian' vampires, the fact that she wishes she invited him out of pure fondness, and finally the fact that she has other intentions. His worries have come true. He sets his fork down and sets a hand to his head. He knew he shouldn't have come here. He knew he shouldn't have taken this small liking to her so quickly.

As a Captain, Steve should have been smarter.

As she explains the scent of his blood, he tries to hear her out and understand. Being the type of man he is, Steve does try to see the reasoning behind others' actions. It's her nature to be this way, isn't it? It's her method of survival, despite the fact that many would consider her monstrous. However, if she drinks from Steve, not only won't he die, but he'll keep regenerating an endless supply of blood.

It'll be like the perfect treat for Mikayla.

Steve doesn't mention this though. Instead, he becomes a little surprised at the fact that she said that she isn't going to ask him to give blood. She sounds so sincere about what she says. She's not going to force him? Is this part of the reason why she looked so sad before? It confuses him. He tries to see through her and understand but he just can't.

So after the bit of silence falls, Steve takes another drink of orange juice. "Why aren't you going to ask me though?" he finally asks. "It's a different thing to force it but asking. . ." He stops there and puts the glass down. He doesn't even know if he'll agree. He just wants to know her reasoning. She doesn't look too well either. Is it because she hasn't had blood in a while?

If that's the reason. . .

Captain America can't pass up the opportunity to help someone. That's what makes this all a dilemma.

Mikayla sighed deeply, fingering the thick black braid of her hair, her eyes dull. She was counting how long it took him to get up and leave, wincing slightly when his fork was set down, as though he had set its prongs in her arm. It rather surprised her that he remained in his seat, asking that question instead of just leaving like so many others had done. For a moment, she sat mouth open with a slight 'ahh' sound coming from her, then she smiled slightly, spoke quietly. "Well... several reasons, really... It hasn't been quite two weeks, for one... I've still two days left. After two weeks I get a little grumpy... approaching the fourteenth day I get a little emaciated and moody... Also, because I... well, I don't... deserve... to feed from a man like yourself..."

She chuckled humorlessly, then sighed. "I didn't deserve to feed from Marcus, either, and you can see how well _that_ came out... I completely ruined his life. He had a family and a promising career..."

She cleared her throat, and ran her fingers through the loose chunk of hair that served as her bangs. "Most importantly... feeding can be considered intimate. _Very_ intimate... I... Vampyres contain a venom that... We inject it upon biting, to mask the pain. It... forces the brain to release _massive_ amounts of endorphins until the feeding is over. If enough is used it will last for a while after, as well. It..." She looked awkwardly away, stroking her braid. "The venom turns feeding into a quite... sexual, experience..."

She started to add 'And that's why I work as a courtesan', but she kept her mouth shut. That was enough. He asked why she wasn't asking him, and she'd answered. Truthfully. She stood up again, and got a plastic freezer bag for the majority of the toast, nibbling on another piece of the french toast now that her stomach had settled a little. "And that exact reason is why I won't ask. Because no man wants to sleep with a vampyre once he learns her secret, and I couldn't in my dreams peg you as the kind of man to bed a whore. Especially not one as old as I."

She zipped up the bag, pushing any of the air out of it before closing it completely, then took it to the freezer and put it in. She stood there for a moment, one hand on the counter and another on her stomach, then turned around and leaned on it. Instead of a grape slushy her eyes now appeared to be containing spilt blood. She looked similar to when he'd first met her, only a little less perfect. Now she'd got herself stuck on thinking about how she'd ruined Marcus' life... persuading him to bed her after he learned her secret, then - high on her own venom - turning him upon his request. The man hadn't taken into consideration how that would affect his current life, and when he went home to his wife and son... Well, they weren't exactly welcoming to a man pale as death, blood dribbles dry on his throat and holes still healing, blood-red eyes and virgin fangs. She'd been careless and slutty... Here, she wouldn't dream of it.

Not on him. Not on the only man in a century that hadn't run from her after learning she was a blood sucker.

Not on the only man she knew would say 'no'.

"So don't you worry yourself about little old me. You just... continue. I won't be a bother to you... simply a good hostess and hopefully a good source of education and occasionally a helping chef. Just..."

"Don't run..."

Steve listens to her reasons while mindlessly eating the pancakes. When he notices that they're gone, he pauses and goes for the French toast. She still has two days left. That doesn't mean she can't go through with it. No, he doesn't know how a vampire - or Vampyre, in this case - feeding will affect him but based on what he knows of himself, his blood should be able to regenerate itself so quickly that he won't be able to turn at all. He still thinks he's the perfect specimen. . .

. . .until she keeps speaking.

Steve holds the French toast in one hand but he doesn't eat from it. He hears her go on about how she doesn't deserve to feed from him. He listens to how intimate a feeding can be. Sure, his body can battle off toxins and the like but endorphins are another thing. Most likely the experience would quadruple for him. He frowns slightly and sets the French toast down with a sigh. Is it possible for Captain America to lose his appetite, especially over the fact that a lady goes around, demeaning her value to men because it's part of her existence?

Yes, it's partly possible.

Steve sets his elbows on the table and runs his hands down his face as he tries to soak all of this information in. He has to give her credit for being honest with him, but being a 40s gentleman, he doesn't like hearing a woman speak about herself like this. After she calls herself a whore, he lowers his hands and looks at her with a displeased expression. Though he can understand that feeding from others is part of her survival, he can't understand why she can't control the urge to use her body like that. Is the feeding that powerful? If so, he can see why anyone would be afraid to hear this information. He can consider it unnatural but he won't. For one thing, he isn't completely natural either.

This is a whole lot for Steve though. He takes his plates and stands up from the table. As she speaks her last set of words, he pauses by the sink. He sets the plates down and decides to actually finish the French toast. He's not going to let it go to waste. He's closer to her now that he's by the sink and she by the counter. He doesn't look at her though. He only sighs after finishing the last bit of toast.

Don't run, she tells him. Why? Why shouldn't he just go? Steve doesn't have to stay here. Besides, what would he gain? He'll be living with a woman who should in fact be in a relationship with that Marcus fellow since they seem to be so intimate. She feeds from others and then beds them. He doesn't see any bright side to this situation. If he wants to find some purpose in the world, staying here definitely won't help him.

"Please don't call yourself by that name again," Steve tells her in reference to the 'whore' comment. He starts to wash the dishes. He's silent for another few seconds. "You might do what you do with men but that's because your natural instincts beg for it. A woman with lower morals would not have excluded me like you just did." Heck, that type of woman would have jumped at the opportunity to have Steve in the flesh. That would be a crazy thing for two reasons, one of them being. . .

. . .well, he isn't that experienced with women yet. Would he really want his first to be after a blood-thirsty woman just drank from him?

Steve shakes his head as if mentally responding to his own question. He finishes washing and dries his hands. With another sigh, he turns to finally look at her, noting her red eyes. "You're right about one thing, miss. I would deny this." He wants to help her though, although he can't see how, which is why he doesn't mention that. "Even though you asked me not to go. . .I don't know how much longer I can stay here. I still appreciate what you've done for me, and I want to repay you, though. . ..now I don't know how much I can."

Steve speaks his last words softly and lowers his eyes, almost feeling bad. What a major twist in this encounter.

Mikayla looked at him for a brief moment, then sighed and dropped her gaze, hugging herself. Yep. That was him 'leaving'. "I said 'don't run', not 'don't leave'. You're free to leave whenever you wish. You could leave right now if you thought it best for your health..." She turned around, staring outside at a live white peacock, roosted on a low iron fence. "I can't and won't guarantee that I won't call myself that again. It's what I am... My feeding does not require having sex... but I do it anyway. It makes it more tolerable, but more monstrous at the same time. I try not to. When desperate I drink blood packs, but they taste disgusting... and I'm out anyway."

She looked at her reflection in the countertop, then in the water. She concentrated hard, and her eyes returned to their normal coloring, with no hint of red at all. It made her look even more tired. "Know that you're welcome here if you ever again need shelter, though I won't blame you if don't come back. If I had the option to leave and let the vampyre in me _finally_ perish, I would. It's not fun having to willingly act the part of a wh-... _courtesan_, for 558 years, given a few decades' respite every now and then when lucky enough to find a husband. But the only cure to vampyrism is death, and I've tried almost every cause there is, but it doesn't work. Silver cross? I'm wearing one right now. Water?"

She turned on the faucet, and stuck her hand in. There was an explosion of steam, then a hiss and sizzle. She pulled it back out. It was burnt pretty badly, black where the stream had hit directly, but was already healing. "I've swam in holy water, sun-bathed naked in the sun. I've been staked, clubbed, stoned, drowned, shot, decapitated... Everything but fire." She let a chuckle escape. "I could ask you to do that as recompense. Also... if you're ever offered true immortality or invincibility, decline. It drives you insane after three or four centuries, watching loved ones die again and again each time you try and start over."

Maybe she was manic-depressive. Moments before she was on the verge of tears, and now, a semi-smile was on her face, watching the bird outside wail for a mate. She looked at Steve, then back out. "It's for the better you pushed me away... a good blood, like a good drug, is addicting. I would end up asking every time, and maybe hurt Massa when unable to get it." When. Not if. She knew that had it gone her way, she would have gotten it only once or twice. "And apparently my venom is addicting as well, but I can understand why."

Because it made you feel good. She knew it was bad to get humans addicted. But she couldn't control that, and refused to feed without it.

"Also, I don't want you to worry about repaying me. I offered _mostly_ out of fondness, but I wronged you by my other reason. If anything, I owe you, for wasting your time and for you not immediately running. It's a pity you won't be staying long, but at least you didn't flee in the middle of breakfast. That would have... sucked, for lack of a better word."

She turned, and walked to the door, then stopped and turned back. "Before I make myself scarce so I can't make things worse, do you have any other questions you would like me to answer?"

Mikayla stood there, keeping her eyes blue, her thin fingers gripping the door frame for support, ready to turn and continue to her study if had no more.

Steve frowns and lets out a soft groan when she says that she can't guarantee she won't call herself a whore again. He then sighs lightly and leans back against the counter while crossing his arms. He stares toward the table for some time as she continues speaking. What she tells him isn't pleasing in the least. It is pretty monstrous but that's just the act. As far as Mikayla as an individual. . .he just can't see her as monstrous. Otherwise, she would have tried to kill him or do anything other.

As she continues, Steve manages to lift his gaze and point it in her direction. A small feeling of sorrow manages to pass through him. This woman goes through various periods of pain. He immediately connects with the fact that she's lost so many people she's cared about because she's outlived them. He lost his comrades because, well. . .in a way, he outlived them too. The fact that he can relate to that causes him to see her actions differently. She didn't ask for this. It's her method of survival, although he still can't get over how horrendous it is.

Once she starts to mention that death is the only answer, Steve feels the morbidity rise within the kitchen. He glances away again and has trouble believing that there is no way for her to permanently die. Perhaps fire really is the trick, but he won't try it on her, even if she begged him. He doesn't believe that any being can live forever. There's always a way for something to die. It would otherwise upset the balance of the planet. He doesn't think on that too long because the image of her burning and reducing to ashes is too much of a strong one.

With the rest of her words, Steve wants to say so many things. Mikayla is used to these types of responses from people - the responses of fear and rejection. She's been used to them for centuries now. She's lived this life of bleakness for too long. Even if someone were to accept her, she would outlive them and she'd lose them. He would never think of gaining immortality. His lengthy longevity is enough as it is.

When Mikayla walks to the door, Steve watches her. He lets out another soft sigh and gets off the counter. He doesn't answer her question. He just stares at her for a minute, his eyes soft and non-judgemental. He studies her momentarily. Then when he's close enough, he reaches forward and wraps an arm around her in a light embrace. Even for a woman that takes in repulsive activities, Steve senses something deep down within her - and it's that reason why he gives her this touch of comfort.

"I'm not going to push you away," Steve whispers. Then he lets her go and proceeds to exit the kitchen.

There is a lot to think about.

It wasn't only outliving them that separated Mikayla from her loved ones. She'd had three husbands, grand total. The first two she'd been with for roughly seventy years a piece. The third... well, only thirty years. Why such a difference? Like Marcus, he'd asked her to turn him, never wanting to leave her. She was _very_ conscious during the administration, and didn't give too much of the proper venom so that he wouldn't turn to quickly... forgetting that he suffered from heart problems. When the venom reached it, it simply ceased to beat. _That_ was when she decided to never again turn someone...

She stiffened. Not because of that, but because of the light embrace given. She was not expecting that, not after everything she just said. She watched him leave, his words replaying in her mind, then shook her head. He already had, in a way. Not in the sense that distance was forming, but more a physical sense... setting a 'boundary' stopping at about a foot from his neck, wrists, and anywhere else her fangs could get. But it was for the best...

For a while, she sat in the quiet of the kitchen... well, stood rather. Her room suddenly felt unappealing... so she went outside and across the grounds to the stable. She only had three horses, but had a five-stall stable... wasn't big, but the grounds she owned wasn't large enough to sustain more than the three and not make her open the garden for feeding grounds as well. The animals helped calm her, especially her horse, Golden Gate Majesty, a fine golden palomino draft horse. She used him only for pleasure riding. She looked toward the house - toward the rooms. The nineteen empty rooms and Steve's room had their massive windows facing the back yard, which was where the sun was most of the day.

For a while, she led Golden Gate Majesty a while, talking to him. Then she leapt up onto his bare back and took off toward the town for something. She was gone for several hours, and when she came back it was with a cooler... so the contents were obvious. She made her way toward her room, stopping outside his for a while... then she stuck a paper with a piece of tape to it. Using her control of shadows, she had them form another on the inside of the door, so that no matter where he was - inside or out of the room - he'd see it when he approached the door. On it, in pretty, tight, slanted writing, it said 'Lunch is there if you haven't eaten'.

Then she went in her room, and sat on her bed with the cooler, pulling a blood baggie out so she could sate her thirst, thinking. She wasn't being that good of a hostess... She'd have to try harder. She changed into something more comfortable - her loose silken night clothes - and sat in bed, staring outside, feeling her skin start to heat and sting where the sun hit it, as it slowly got sunburnt. Then she pulled the tube out of the baggie, stuck the hole between her lips, and started drinking. It was slow work, but after a baggie and a half - with a quarter of the full amount having run down her chin.. though she cleaned almost all of it up - she was full and pretty and energetic-looking again, her skin once again holding that healthy glow... it was bright pink, though, and hurt to move.

She pressed the button on the intercom next to her bed, the one for Leonardo. "Leo?"

"Yes, Milady...?"

"Could you be a dear and bring me cold, damp towels and so aloe vera? Also, check to see if Steve's wardrobe has clothes in it... if it doesn't, locate and have some of Marcus' old clothes washed. They'll fit... if he doesn't want those and doesn't have any of his own, inform me."

She'd do it herself but her skin was mad at her. But it made her feel a little better now that she was at least trying to take care of her guest...

"Yes, Milady."

Steve climbs the steps, his thoughts never leaving him. Mikayla had filled his head with so much. The thoughts form into a whirlwind, twisting and twisting around until he doesn't know what to make of his current situation. He pauses at the top of steps and looks back as if in hopes to see her behind him. He sighs and continues on to his room, closing the door behind him once he steps in.

This is a strange situation for the former Captain America. Never would his comrades have believed that he would be in a large estate with a Vampyre. He should be in the military or out in the fields, helping someone. Maybe, in a twisted sort of way, he is helping someone. It's a bizarre way of thinking but the longer he dwells on it, the more he starts to consider the thought.

Laying in bed, Steve crosses his hands behind his head and goes through his options. He can leave and forget this whole ideal and find a military base who can help him return to his roots. Or he can stay. Anyone might ask what good reason is there to stay. If he leaves, he knows for a fact that Mikayla will be on his mind. She's affected him in a way that he can't really explain. It's not because of what she is. . .well, it's partly because of that. Realistically he should be afraid of her and he shouldn't want to get near her again.

Yet there's this certain humanity in her that Steve can't deny.

It's so hard to mentally explain that he doesn't want to think on it anymore. Instead, he lies on his side and finds himself starting to fall asleep. He drifts off for a few moments as the note appears on his door. Who knows how much longer he'll stay? Who knows what will end up happening between them? Any accident can happen. Any hostility can arise.

But Steve's altruistic heart keeps him from leaving. He sleeps for a couple moments longer and opens his eyes some time later. He turns over in bed when he thinks he heard something. Seems to be something outside. He notices the note on his door. Quickly getting out of bed, he goes over to read it. A small smile graces his features. He's not so hungry yet but he knows exactly where to go when his stomach asks for sustenance.

Steve can't help but feel that Mikayla is ashamed to be around him. It makes him feel partially guilty. Why else would she rarely see him during his entire stay here? It had been a couple of days and. . .and he had only seen her twice.

Mikayla was quick to apply the aloe and towels upon receiving them, and her skin was quick to thank her by healing faster. Afterward, when it no longer hurt to move, she got up and headed toward Steve's room.

Leonardo knocked on his door, then entered, gaze lowered respectfully. "Milady wishes to know if you've a wardrobe, Master Rogers..." He shuffled in and over to the armoire on the wall, then gripped the handles and pulled it open. Had Mikayla left the rooms uncleaned, several generations of moths would have flown out. The elderly man faced Steve. "Do you keep them somewhere else or do you have none?"

Mikayla's voice sounded from the open door. "If not we can always ride out to a bigger city and get some for you. It'd be no hassle, and would give me time to make up for being a horrible hostess."

She leaned against the doorway, still in her silk slip. Her skin was still a little pink, but she was full and curvy again. "Plus, you can't be in Italy and never ride through the country. Most beautiful place on Earth, in my opinion. Not just Italia's country, I bet, but seeing as I've never been outside of Italia I can't say." She was quiet for a second, then smiled. "But you would know, wouldn't you? What is it like outside of Italia? Where do you hail from, if I may ask, and how did you get yourself here? A momentary pause, then, "Sorry... too many too fast."

A faint pink touched her cheeks, bringing more life to her face. However, it was quite obvious pink was /not/ her color.

"... If you don't want to go shopping we could always just ride."

Steve moves back to the bed and sits down at the side. He sighs softly and starts to think of something when the knock arrives on his door. Thinking it's Mikayla, he reaches for his white T-shirt only to see Leonardo enter. He smiles a little and sets the shirt down. He greets the man and then thinks over what he hears. He does have a few clothes. They were in there the day he got here.

But Steve's wanted new ones since these clothes don't feel exactly right to him. It's not that they don't fit his form. It's that, in his mind, he's still a 40s man, so laugh or not, he's comfortable in his 'old man' clothes. "I do have a few," he answers as he stands from the bed. "They might be able to last me another week." He doesn't mention the fact that they're not his type because he doesn't want to seem rude.

That's when Steve hears Mikayla's voice. He looks toward the doorway and instantly grabs the T-shirt, placing it on and lowly apologizing for his indecent appearance. When he looks back at her, he notices what she's wearing and turns away as a gentleman. He does feel a soft blush on his face and he attempts to hide it. He can't lie though. She's absolutely stunning and most likely any man would love to view her in her nightwear. As a man from his era though, he knows it isn't right to stare, regardless if she's the one who came to his room instead of the other way around.

Steve smiles a little to what he hears. He wants to let her know that he isn't uncomfortable in her presence. He's only treating her with respect. He turns to look at her but his eyes stay on her face. "Most beautiful place on Earth? Well, then how can I say no?" He chuckles a little and then turns away at her questions. Now he's reminded again of his situation. This isn't the reality he's used to.

This is the reality away from Peggy. . .

Steve sighs lightly and tries not to let the thought of her get to him. His feelings for her are still there justifiably. To him, it feels like it's only been a number of days that he hasn't seen her. He glances toward Leonardo's direction for no particular reason and answers, "It's a whole different world entirely." He means that in more ways than one. "I'm from the United States originally. New York to be exact." Though he has no idea how the current New York would look right now. It would probably be so strange to him.

Steve turns his head to look at her. He doesn't exactly answer her last question yet. He only smiles a bit. "I think shopping would be just fine." Besides, it would give him more time with her. Ever since he's met her, he's been curious about her and that hasn't stopped yet. . .

Not even after the morbid breakfast conversation.


	3. Florence

**Okay, people... I apologize for the insane length of this chapter, but I never caught a good chapter ending in what we'd written so far, until the end. With novella roleplaying, the amount of words you type in a post is staggering, and you don't even mean to :P...**

******_I don't own Steven Rogers, and neither does the other party... _****_However, Mikayla Silverblood, Marcus Khyte, the Little Lady, this version of a small Italian town called Masa Marittima, and this version of a large Italian city called Florence DO belong to me. The buildings I've listed do not; they are real. None of them are worth stealing, but I'd appreciate them stay in my possession. Enjoy Chapter III!_**

* * *

Mikayla tilted her head when his first reaction was to throw that shirt on, almost making a disappointed face but catching herself. She smiled at his apology, and started to say, "That is _not_ indecent," then paused. To him, it was, so instead she said, "Don't apologize. You didn't know I was here."

Then she ducked behind the door frame, blushing quite brightly, only her face visible. "Sorry... Um... well, good. I'll, uh... go get dressed, then meet you out by the stable so we can figure out which horse likes you best so you won't have to worry about _that_ while riding..." She pointed out the big window to a little building a bit off into the land, then she disappeared.

She'd run to her room. Not that she needed to. But today, she felt like wearing actual clothes. Normally, she wore shadows, 'solidified' into the shape of whatever she wanted. But the thing was, a good gust of breeze or peering really close would make them shadows flee, leaving her quite naked. And riding on the back of a horse... that created quite a bit of wind. She didn't want that, not with Steve... she didn't want things to be even **worse** between them. Her point in offering the ride and shopping trip was to try and make things better...

Twenty minutes later, she was out and headed toward the stables. She was wearing a heavy blue tank that looked like the water reflections on blue sand, and had no sleeves, but a tie that fitted behind the neck to keep it up. Under that she wore black pants, the ankles brought in to hug the skin instead of flare out. On her feet she wore black boots, and at the very top, her curly black hair was pulled back into a high-held horse-tail; like a pony-tail but longer. "Alright. Ready to meet our modes of transportation?"

She grinned, then stuck two fingers in her mouth and let loose a loud whistle. Moments later, three horses thundered over, coming to a stop in front of her. One was the golden palomino draft; next was a black Overo paint horse, and last, a Liver Chestnut Tovero paint. Mikayla smiled at him, stroking their velvety noses. "Alright, you get to work with the paints, Steve. Golden Gate's mine... he might be friendly but he hasn't let anyone else ride him yet. This one here," she patted the black Overo, "is Cat Burglar, but we just call her Cat. That Tovero over there, looking at you, is Chocolate Milk. He's a little ornery but has an incredibly comfortable gait."

She led the three horses and Steve into the stable, then closed the doors and flicked on the lights. The gear was all on the last two stall doors and the stable wall. "Do you know how to saddle a horse, Steve?"

She could show him if he didn't. She held back a laugh as she imagined him trying to saddle the other two horses, Cat being very anti-social and Chocolate Milk being the stubborn brat he was.

Steve pauses and looks at her as she ducks behind the doorframe. Although the action confuses him, he finds it to be a little adorable on her part. He tries to think of why she's stumbling over her words but he can't come up with a reason. Maybe she still feels strange after the earlier conversation. He looks out the window after she points to it and is about to give her an okay but when he faces forward, he sees that she's gone.

Steve stares at the empty doorway for a moment. Then he lets out a small breath and thanks Leonardo for everything. Afterward, he starts to get dressed. Horses, hm? He's never actually been horseback-riding. In New York, horses aren't very common, unless you're in the countryside. Sometimes the cops would ride them in the streets during crowded times. Not that Steve would know that because the cops didn't do that in the 40s. They do that in the current times, which he hasn't seen yet.

After selecting a blue button-down shirt tucked into his dark slacks, Steve combs back his hair and proceeds to meet Mikayla by the stables. When he sees her, he notices how different she looks. She looks like. . .an actual person now. Not the mystery woman he met on the streets. She seems alive and real. Not the creature she described in the kitchen. It's not like he's actually judging her. It's. . .

. . .it's complicated to say, really.

Steve looks at the horses as she introduces them. He takes one step back as they make their way out of the stables. He's seen horses this close up in Germany a few times but he's just never had the chance to ride them. This is going to turn out very interesting. Though he's a fast learner, he has a feeling that when it concerns horses, things are going to be different.

Steve lets out a little chuckle and scratches the back of his head. "No, can't say that I can," he says somewhat awkwardly. He chuckles again and looks directly at the horse named Cat. For some reason, that's the one he's feeling right now but he doesn't make a move toward it yet. He waits to see what Mikayla will say first.

Mikayla laughed softly, watching him, leaning against her comparatively massive horse, holding onto his mane, his jaw resting on her head. "Well, it's not really all that hard. Saddle pad, saddle, bridle... Here, I'll show you how to do it on Golden Gate Majesty, then you can get the proper tack and try to gear up the horse of your choosing."

She flashed a friendly smile, then got Golden Gate's tack - a creamy golden brown saddle pad, then a white-and-brown saddle and bridle. "I ride a mix of Western and English style. I like to hold the reins in both hands, but I hate posting a trot, preferring to sit it. But tacking up doesn't differ any..." She grabbed the saddle pad, leading Golden Gate into a stall and stepping on the stool in it in order to be tall enough to put it on his back. "The saddle pad and saddle have a bend in the middle to help place it right. Make sure the saddle pad sits on the highest point of the withers. Then, after hooking everything on top of the saddle, you place it on."

She got the saddle, and put it on, then unhooked the stirrups and laid them on his stomach, unrolling the girth. Small as she was, and with Golden Gate so used to her, she scurried under his stomach with the girth. "You make sure the girth is flat against the stomach, then you take the strap through the loops to make sure it stays up. With the bridle... I might have to put the others in a halter, but what you do is you press the bit against the teeth, and they'll take it. The crown goes behind the ears, and depending on the bridle you choose, it'll loop around either one or both ears... and I think I have one bridle with a nose strap, should I want to add vision blocker... things."

Having never needed one, she didn't know what they were called. With Golden Gate all tacked up, she turned around and looked at Steve, smiling. "Socialize with Cat or Milk a little bit... see which one responds better to you. Then you'll get to tack up... And because I sense you've never spent a second in the saddle... we'll walk you around the yard, get you used to the gait and whichever horse used to you. Then, we'll be off." Another grin was offered before she clicked her tongue and opened the stable door, letting the massive honey-colored stallion out while keeping the other two in.

Steve tries his best to comprehend everything that she's telling him. He's learned the most difficult things in the military and has become a great tactician but something as simple as saddling a horse seems like the most difficult task for him. He stares for some time and does his best to remember what she's saying. He watches her movements and takes note of them. To him, it's a lot to learn. In a way, it might be ridiculous and amusing. It looks like Captain America has found his challenge yet!

Steve nods here and there as she talks. Then, moments later, he looks at Cat when she tells him to socialize with the horses. Yeah, that seems like a good start. Hopefully he'll remember what she's taught him. He lets out a breath and smiles. Then he slowly walks toward the other two horses and looks at each of them, Cat in particular of course.

"Hey there," Steve says in a soft voice. He stays there for some time and looks back at Mikayla once. "You sure this'll work? I hope I'm not some sort of horse repellant for them." He chuckles a little bit and turns to the horses again. Well, this is different. It's a lot more different than the things that he's used to. It's a good distraction too. He can only hope that he can get this horseriding thing correctly.

Steve really does look forward to seeing the views of Italy. Even though it's on horseback, he won't mind it. He'll have to get used to something apart from what he knows anyway. This is a good start to restarting his life, even if it's outside of the Army.

Mikayla giggled softly, watching with a friendly look to her face. "Yes, you're doing it right. Offer your hand for them to sniff, palm up and flat so they don't mistake your fingers for carrots or something."

Cat took a similar interest in the human watching her, turning her white face in his direction. Her eyes were funky - the eye in the white of her face was brown, and the eye in the single black spot was blue. Aside from her face, lower legs, a misshapen band around her middle, and a few spots on her rump, she was completely black; a very interesting horse altogether. When his hand was offered, she butted Chocolate Milk's face away to smell and lip it, whickering softly and shaking her head, lifting her head to lip at his face. She then pulled her head back when Mikayla tapped her velvety nose with a crop. "Cat, stay away from the face!"

Poor Chocolate Milk was looking all neglected, but he chose that moment to stretch his neck out and sniff at Steve. After a tug at his shirt, he sneezed, and dropped his head, seemingly disinterested, nibbling at the alfalfa on the floor. All this was causing Mikayla to laugh. "Oh you poor man... for a moment I thought they'd fight over you. They hardly ever get to meet new people... only when I go shopping for them, which is when I take them. As you can tell they're both quite friendly... but like siblings, they quarrel. They're not siblings, genetically, but they might as well be. I bought them at the same time, and their bloodlines trace back to sharing studs... so they're related, just not closely."

Now Cat Burglar wasn't letting Chocolate Milk over, snorting and neighing lowly and swishing her tail. This brought another giggle from the woman. "I guess Cat made the choice for you... That's better, though, because she doesn't have conditions and sides like Milk... Now you just have to get her tacked up. Wanna try on your own or would you like me to help you?"

She led Chocolate Milk to the door, then let him out, closing it before Cat pulled a horse-dini and slipped out on them, even after scaring Milk off.

Steve reaches out to offer his hand to the horses, Cat in particular of course but he wouldn't mind if Milk came over. His eyes stay on Cat and he studies her traits. He doesn't know what it is about her but it's that instant attraction that's rarely happened with Steve and others.

Steve chuckles a little as the horse moves Milk's face away to smell his hand. He smiles while feeling the horse so close to his skin. He never thought he would actually be a horse kind of guy but here he is, attempting to connect with one of these magnificent creatures. His thoughts are interrupted when Cat tries to go toward his face. He takes one step back and chuckles more this time. It's an amusing moment for him and he finds himself laughing more than he thought he would.

Once Milk tugs at Steve's shirt, he gives a small and playful 'hey' and then smiles. "I guess it makes it easier that they're not fighting for me then." He gives Mikayla a quick look before facing Cat again. Inside, he's glad that the horse likes him in return. It relieves him. There may have been a good chance that she could have reacted like Milk and turned away. She didn't though and that's good news for him.

Steve gently gives Cat a pat while listening to Mikayla explain about the two horses. Then he laughs a little again when the horse appears so possessive of him. "That's good to know. I liked her from the start. I'm glad that she actually likes me in return." Now he has a feeling that this will be an enjoyable ride through the country. It lightens his spirits a little, and he almost forgets the conversation he had with Mikayla earlier.

To her question, he looks at her and smiles a little bit. "I. . .think I can try it on my own. If I mess up, I'm hoping you'd help me and not stand there and laugh at me." Steve's joking of course. He shows that with the broader smile he puts on.

Mikayla grinned broadly. "Oh, I'll laugh. But I'll help while laughing. It's not really difficult... It's like... really, all a saddle is is a belt with a giant buckle and stirrups. However... you being so tall you won't be able to just scoot under her belly. I don't think she'd like that too much anyway."

She chuckled, leading the mare to a stall and getting her head in the halter so that Steve could get her situated without exploring horse lips in his hair and on his face, hooking the cross-leads up before Cat could figure out what was happening. With an annoyed whinney, she stood there, ready to be tacked. Mikayla talked to her soothingly in Italian, kissing her pink nose and patting the bridge gingerly. "He's not going to hurt you, Cat... are you, Steve?"

She smiled, looking over at the man. She seemed so much different with these animals... more care free and, well, free. And the animals willingly responded to what she said... unless it was Cat with her affectionate nibbling. No matter how much Mikayla scolded her she never stopped. But it was cute, so she didn't really scold all that severely unless she bit. She stepped back and sat on the stall wall, watching Steve. "You can use any of the tack that's left. Golden Gate has to have specific tack since he's so much larger, but not these two. They can share tack... and as you can see you have quite a few options. None of them make any difference, though. Just saddles and bridles."

She continued to watch and talk to Cat, helping undo the halter and slip it lower onto her neck when it came time for the bridle. Then she undid the halter, showed Steve how to hold the reins, and led them outside, calling Milk and putting him inside. "Alright... Now, you'd think getting up would be easy, but it's not. Grab her neck and the horn, or the horn and the edge of the saddle. Stick your left foot in the stirrup, get ready, and swing up. The stirrup will turn with you, and it's easy enough to pull your foot out and stick it back in the proper side."

Mikayla whistled for Golden Gate, then showed him by swinging up herself, her tiny, lithe frame leaping gracefully onto the beast's broad back. He almost looked too big for her. "Alright, now let's get you up so we can get you two used to each other so we can be off." She smiled. His shoulder was the same height as Cat's. Perfect size for each other.

Steve can't deny that he likes this side of her. She appears so natural and less dark and morbid. The sweetness to her is really flowing out. As he thinks this, he finds himself looking at her longer than he feels he should have. He turns away and listens to what she explains to him. He watches her and then responds to what she says. "Of course I won't. Never." He looks at Cat as he says that.

Steve listens a little more and then proceeds to do as she says, watching her and doing what he can. Surprisingly, he's able to follow without much struggle. It actually brings a little enjoyment for him to participate in this. It's like a mind-freeing activity.

Sooner or later, all is done and the only thing Steve has to do now is mount. He pauses and looks at Mikayla. He watches how easily she sets herself atop the large, majestic creature. Then he turns away and sticks his left foot in the stirrup as directed. He takes a look at Cat once more and releases a small breath. Well, here goes nothing. He's jumped out of planes before and dived right in the middle of war. This should be playtime.

Steve finds himself swinging himself up as she had. It happened so quickly and to him, it feels like a small victory. He even smiles to himself and takes the reins. "Wow," he whispers to himself. This is something he'll definitely remember for a while. Even if he leaves soon to rejoin the Army, this is a moment that will etch itself into the large gallery that consists of his memories.

Mikayla laughed once he was up, hearing his little whisper, resting an arm on the horn and shaking her head. "Well, look at you... Aren't you just the handsomest thing atop a steed?" She blew a kiss and winked, then showed him the two different ways to hold the reins - one handed or one side in each hand. After they got that sorted out, she turned Golden Gate. They moved as if they were one being, with her only having to move the reins slightly for him to know where she wanted him to go. "Click your tongue to get Cat to walk. If she doesn't respond with just a click, tap your heels against her flank, but gently. She's bucked me off a few times when I wasn't paying attention."

She walked Golden Gate, leading Steve and Cat around the yard, letting him get used to her fluid gait and her to Steve's weight. After about ten minutes, Cat once again looked comfortable and content, and Mikayla knew they could start out without any worries - equine worries, anyway - now. She trotted Golden Gate to a fence, lifting the latch and pushing it open, walking him through and waiting for Steve and Cat to get through before closing it. "Is the military eye-candy ready?"

She paused at that, feeling her cheeks warm, mentally scolding herself and verbally letting a 'sorry' slip out. She smiled sheepishly, then looked ahead. Already it seemed a different world, like a protective shield had formed itself around the area and forbade any human interference. Being autumn, the leaves were all beautiful shades of golden and red, with hardly a brown one to be seen. She looked over at the man, then set them forward at a comfortable brisk walk, past a brook that babbled the forest's secrets on deaf ears, past frogs and singing insects that added their own two cents. Even Mikayla chimed in, humming softly. She wasn't the best singer, but it didn't make ears bleed... and just humming it was almost like a muffled bird song. "I haven't been back here in eons..."

She started looking around, then turned Golden Gate, clicking her tongue so Cat would follow if Steve didn't catch the change in direction. Through a tunnel of fiery-gold-leaved branches they traversed, and entered a courtyard, housing broken but beautiful statues, and a single bench in front of a pool that still contained living fish. "It must be fifty years since I last visited here... I'm glad the forest hasn't reclaimed it..." She looked ahead, staring at five little rocks at the very back of the square-ish courtyard, nearly hidden by a wild rosebush and the leaves. Six tombstones, set neatly and carved with love, the named still as clear as when they were first carved: Lily, Abelie, Dorotea, James, and David, the newest being 'David', the death date claiming '1901'. The names brought a sad smile to her face, and made her eyes moisten. "I knew I forgot something... Fifty years, and the only flower being the wild roses that sprang out of nowhere... Oh, um... Steve, meet my children."

A pause. "Well... at least their tombstones. I assure you, they were much prettier when alive... and more welcoming." Another sad smile. Then she looked at him. "I hope this doesn't... creep you out or anything... my bringing you here. I hadn't originally intended to do so... but it called to me when we passed it. We can resume our original path right now if you'd like."

But she didn't turn the horse. It felt wrong to her, to not have brought flowers to the graves of her children. Staring at the middle tombstone, her hand unconsciously slid to her chest, right above her heart, and fingered the slightest pink mark that marred her otherwise-flawless alabaster skin. She looked at him. "Again... I'm sorry if this makes you feel weird or anything."

Once Mikayla laughs, Steve gives her a quick look. He smiles a little bit and then hears what she says next. He chuckles and finds himself almost blushing at her little joke. Well, he takes it as a joke, especially after she blows the kiss and winks. "Nothing like the beautiful maiden on her own horse," he tells her, playing along, although what he says isn't far from the truth anyway.

Afterward, he pays close to attention to what she says and nods. Click his tongue. That's all Steve has to do. He should get used to this, right? At first, it doesn't seem to be working, so he leans forward a little bit while taking the reins in one hand. It takes a few more seconds for the horse to start moving. When she does, he lets out a small sigh of relief. This is taking a lot more work than he thought but he doesn't regret any of it.

Once the minutes went by, Steve looks toward Mikayla just in time for her question. He's taken aback by it but he chuckles a little bit. She's being so nice to him right now, with the little cute remarks here and there. That's how he sees it. He can barely get an answer out before she apologizes to him. Something about her makes him look at her a little longer after that. It's something that he hasn't paid attention to lately. It's something that he only saw in one other woman in his past.

. . .no, it's nothing to do with that. Steve is just taken in with the moment. He shakes his head and tries not to think whatever he was just thinking. He only gives a little chuckle and follows her on the horse. As they move along, he finds himself getting more and more used to guiding the magnificent creature. He takes in the surroundings, which feel so magical to him. He even closes his eyes for a moment to get a feel of them. It's so peaceful here, unlike any other place he's been while back in the 40s. This would be an excellent place to get away, if he ever did.

When Mikayla says that she hasn't been here in eons, Steve can't help but find it strange. It's still going to take him some time to get used to the fact that she's been around for centuries. He can't let that slide out of his head because it's the truth. He doesn't say anything in remark to that. Only: "It's so beautiful here."

After a few more minutes, they entered the courtyard. Steve only lagged behind once or twice. Once in the courtyard, his eyes land on different spots until eventually he notices the tombstones. They're morbid touches to the strangely gorgeous surroundings. He wonders why she hasn't been here in so long. And 1901? Yeah, it'll take him quite a while to get used to this. His father had been alive at that time. Steve himself had been born some years later. At least he can somehow relate to that date.

As soon as she mentions that these are her children, Steve feels an unnatural chill go up his back. It's unnatural because Captain America doesn't usually feel such sensations. It's the reason why he's confused for it now. His eyes stay on the tombstones as she keeps talking. That's right. He has to remember the detail about her again. She outlives everyone she encounters. That means husbands and children alike. She isn't the young woman who had been so natural to him just about a half hour earlier. Literally, she's a historical figure, a great ancestor of someone else.

It's weird for him to think like that because Steve can be someone's grandfather if he had any kids in the 40s. Still, Mikayla's situation is much greater than his.

He doesn't move though. She tells him that they can go but he doesn't make an effort to move. Steve looks over the tombstones some more and releases a small sigh. The world isn't as natural as it seems. Everything's been twisted up for him recently. He can only imagine how it's been for her.

On a side note, seeing these tombstones gives him a bleak desire to see if Peggy had been buried anywhere. . .considering that she isn't alive anymore.

Steve looks at Mikayla at last, noticing the look in her eyes. He gently guides Cat toward her. No matter the situation, Captain America's heart always prevails. It's the reason why he sets a tender hand on hers and says nothing. He just looks at her a little longer and then walks the horse past her. He's ready to leave whenever she is.

Mikayla blushed softly at his remark, knowing it was but a tender jest, almost glad that he'd taken her words that way and not the way that they'd slipped out.

"Let's go," she whispered, still feeling phantom pressure of where his hand had been. A tiny flicker of fear lit in her eyes, only being doused once they were out of the tree tunnel. She got them back on their way, quiet for quite a while. Finally: "I'm sorry I took you there... I keep telling myself to not go there and not to take anyone there... It's not the best place to go or be..." Another pause... "I don't mean to seem intrusive or bring up bad memories, but..."

She looked at him. "Do you ever visit the grave or urn of your love...?"

She hoped she wasn't assuming when bringing the subject of death up. But the way Steve had said 'Not anymore' just gave her that feeling, since she'd experienced it. But after that question, she was quiet, merely playing with Golden Gate's mane. She looked up, then yanked the beast to a stop, touching Cat's flank. Twenty feet ahead, oblivious of their presence, was a small herd of deer, grazing on the short grass poking above the blanket of fallen leaves. The two bucks in the herd were giving each other wary glances and shaking their heads, antlers loose. Four does and two fawns - nearly spotless - were grazing and watching the males. Mikayla looked to Steve, her face bright again. "Ever touched a deer?"

After that, she disappeared, literally. One moment she was in the saddle, the next she was gone. Looking on the ground, the shadow of her figure moved smoothly and silently over the ground, looking like a normal shadow save the large circles that served as eyes. Slowly, she approached the deer, stopping whenever the deer looked up. Finally, being quick and gentle, she wrapped her arms around the shadow of the neck of the older buck, then reappeared from the shadows, still holding him, scaring the rest of the herd off. He strugggled for a moment, both antlers snapping off from the jerky motions... but he soon calmed down after realizing she wasn't going to hurt him. She then beckoned to Steve. "Come pet him... he's really soft..."

She stroked his neck. The antlers... they were moving. A tiny window of light revealed how; her shadow was moving on its own, grabbing the shadows of the antlers and dragging them across the ground to the horses, setting them in the loop of the saddle girth on Golden Gate.

She let the buck go when they were done, looking like she had before they'd entered the courtyard. She sighed happily, then turned to Steve. "Come on, we better lope the rest of the way. Where we're going isn't really close and if we're not careful we'll be riding back in the dark."

She walked back to Golden Gate, and swung up, waiting for Steve before urging both animals into a lope.

Once she whispers the words for them to leave, Steve follows her. He can't seem to get the last few minutes out of his head. His thoughts toward her children's gravestones just expand in his head, leaving no room for different thoughts. The fact that she even had children that would have been much older than him (had they been alive when he was born): this fact makes him almost want to respect her in a different light and treat her like his elder.

Steve doesn't want to possess these conflicting thoughts though. He only wants to take her as who she is to him now and not add in so much of the past. Sure, the past makes someone who they are today but there are always factors that run much deeper than that. These factors are what he considers as they ride out of the tunnel.

Fortunately, Mikayla breaks Steve from his thoughts with her words. He looks at her when he hears the apology. He gives a shake of his head. "It's fine. It. . .helped me learn more about you. . .even though I know how sad for you that must be." He pauses and decides not to continue more on that, in case it affects her more than he thinks it would.

Steve is about to change the subject and mention the forthcoming Italian countryside but that's the moment that she asks him a question that he doesn't expect. He freezes and doesn't realize that he tightens his grip on the reins. Instantly, Peggy's face comes to his head and he thinks back on her cracking voice when they had their last conversation over the radio. Agent Carter. . .the one woman who stuck around and saw more to him, even when he didn't look like this. Even when he was just a frail little guy with nothing physically spectacular about him.

The thought of Peggy possibly being dead causes Steve's eyes to move toward the ground. "No," he answers softly. "I never had the chance to." He loosens the grip on the reins so that the subject doesn't affect him too much. "Don't even know if she's dead yet." He manages to look up at Mikayla after he says that.

It's not long after that when she asks him a question about a deer. Steve can't say that he isn't grateful for the change of subject. He shakes off the dreary sensation about death and looks toward the trees. "No, I can't say I have," he answers. He's about to say more but then Mikayla disappears. He starts to call out her name in worry, thinking that something happened to her. Then weird things happen, things that his eyes see but he just can't believe.

Steve's never seen anything like that. He stares as the shadow takes the deer and makes it reappear so close. It takes him minutes to register all that's happened. He knows that she said she was a Vampyre - or however she called it - but he would never have imagined her abilities like this. He doesn't know whether to be fascinated or. . .

Steve hesitates at first to pet the buck. He's still recovering from the display of shadowy abilities. He smiles a little bit so that the moment doesn't seem too awkward. Then he makes his way over and gives the buck a little pat. He's glad to see that it isn't startled anymore.

Once that's done, Steve looks at the buck once more and gives a nod to Mikayla who seems much happier now. He's more than ready to go. That's why he takes off after her once they start moving again.

Mikayla didn't stop them again until they reached their destination, which was a good two, two and a half hours later. By that point, both horses were ready for a rest, their hides shining with a thin coating of sweat. Luckily, because horses were still an option of travel in rural Italy, there were hitching posts outside the city, a water trough on the other side. She showed Steve how to properly hitch a horse, then took him inside. It was _much, much_ larger than the tiny Massa, and a little more modernized with cars and different buildings, but it still kept that beautiful, old look. "Welcome to Florence, Steve. This is where the shopping is done."

She led him to the town square, past a grand fountain with what looked like Poseidon in it, then a little to the left and into a cozy-looking store. Inside, there were many different types of clothing, including - would you believe it - 'old man' clothes. Not so freakishly old that they still had puffy sleeves and Victorian collars... but not anything like what he was wearing now. "This is the only place that I immediately know of that sells older clothing... They're not _actually_ from the time period but they're made the same way. If you don't like the selection here, we can ask around to see if there are any more... American clothing shops, perhaps."

While there, she perused, but she didn't buy anything. She had enough clothing - hell, she still had the kind of clothing she wore when an actual human child. She watched Steve as well, but not too long nor intently so as not to seem creepish. She hummed softly while looking, then simply waited for him next to two doors, with the numbers 1 and 2 on them, and right next to the cash register. In case he'd found something he'd like to try on. While waiting, she saw something she liked - wasn't too old, but it wasn't the newest thing, either. She snatched it, then slipped into one of the dressing rooms, trying it on quickly.

She should have figured the final clasp would be in the back where she couldn't reach firmly. She bit her lip, and contemplated on it for a moment, then slipped out and found Steve. "Could you do me a tiny favor...?" She turned around, pulling her hair over her shoulder to reveal the little zipper and button-loop pairing. "Could you finish this for me? I can't quite reach it, and I have to have it completely closed to see if it fits right..."

It was a pretty little cream dress, only the slightest shade of pinkish-yellow more than her skin. She didn't have enough dresses... just the two from her birth century.

Throughout the ride, Steve finds himself immersed in the landscape. He's so taken in with it, that he doesn't feel much of the time go by. Honestly, he never thought it would take so long to get to where they were headed but he doesn't mind it. The view is breathtaking. It's liberating and gives him some sense of peace he hasn't felt in a very long time, 40s life included. He happens to glance at Mikayla now and then, seeing how she's doing out of natural instinct. They exchange a few words but not much since the surroundings take most of his attention. It gives him time to reflect on his thoughts.

When they finally reach their spot, Steve gets off the horse and would have felt the aftereffects if he wasn't superhuman. He realizes that a lot of time has gone by, which is to his shock. He hitches the horse as she shows him and glances at the area. It looks like a place that would exist in the 40s, although he's never been to Italy. France and Germany maybe but not here. And Florence? He's heard so much about it. Now it feels incredible to be here.

Once inside the store, Steve smiles a little at the clothes that he sees. Now this is more like it. These are clothes that call out to him. Sure, people will try to modernize him and maybe he'll eventually grow into "younger" men's clothes but right now he's still comfortable in what a 70-80 year old man would be wearing. He listens to what Mikayla says and nods. "It's great," he remarks. "Thanks a lot."

It seems like she's noticed what types of things would make him comfortable. Steve appreciates that. He goes to different sections of the stores, grabbing button-down shirts that make him feel like himself. He doesn't even have to try them on to know that they're for him. He grabs a couple shirts in different colors and then moves toward the pants.

While Steve looks over the pants, he hears Mikayla's voice next to him. He turns to look at her and freezes immediately. He feels a little heat rise in his face. It's for two reasons in fact. One: she's asking him to zip her up, which was considered intimate in his time. Usually couples helped each other with that or another woman did it. The second reason for his reaction is. . .

. . .she looks so stunningly beautiful in that dress.

Steve doesn't want to stand and stare for too long. He doesn't even notice that his lips are slightly parted in the awe that crawls over him. He remembers that she asked him for a favor, so he swallows and sets the shirts down on an empty table that's not being used for display at the moment.

"Sure," Steve answers, trying to regain composure. He reaches forward and hesitates for only a moment, since he's never ever done this for any woman. Again, because it's an intimate action and because of his experience with women overall. He zips her up and tries not to think too much into it. Then he looks at her and, as a gentleman, he has to remark.

"Mikayla. . .that dress looks great on you," Steve tells her. "You look breathtaking." It also helps that in the 40s, dresses like these were considered extremely attractive on women, especially on ones who were already gorgeous to begin with, Mikayla being no exception.

Mikayla felt her own cheeks warm as it took him several moments to comply. Not having eyes in the back of her head she could only guess what the man was doing, but she figured her guess was pretty darned close to reality: The gentleman was hesitant. She smiled softly, unable to stop herself from tensing slightly when his fingers worked the zipper and the button. She wasn't used to 'casual' contact... and her spine and neck were two of her most sensitive spots. When it was all zipped, she turned on her heel and parted her lips to thank him, then paused, listening to him. His words brought a bashful smile to her lips, and a bright red to her cheeks. "Thank you," she peeped, looking down at the soft material that hugged and flared in all the right places. The dress was simple, with a fake belt around the middle made of the same material, but... Mikayla being Mikayla, she added, "I'm sure the dress is prettier but thank you..."

She didn't find herself pretty, that was sure. But it was evident she didn't find herself ugly, because she dressed nicely and kept her image up. With a smile directed at him, she quietly excused her blushing self, and returned to the dressing room, reappearing with her previous clothes on but the dress draped over one arm. She figured that, if his words had meant anything, that maybe she could go out some day soon and possibly find a man again. Steve being there, listening as she went over-dramatic, had made her realize just how lonely she was. Maybe it was time to start looking again.

Mikayla gave him the time he needed to browse and select, waiting by the register again, her credit card at the ready, sitting on the counter. She kept a hand over half of it, though, to make sure it didn't go anywhere she didn't want it to. "Find everything you need?"

"_**Tale una bella coppia**_,"("Such a beautiful couple,") the cashier said in his native language, flashing them both a friendly smile as he rang up her dress and Steve's selection of clothing.

But Mikayla blanched upon hearing it, losing the luster life gave to her alabaster cheek briefly, and she quickly rolled something out in Italian as well, a blush spreading over her cheeks and touching her neck with the softest pink. Not looking in Steve's direction for a moment, she lifted the plastic rectangle and gave it to him, pulling her wallet out of her purse to slip it back inside. She waved to the cashier, and made her way out, looking at the soldier at her side once out of the little building. "Are you hungry? It's been several hours since you last ate..." She didn't know if that breakfast had really filled him up or if he had to eat at regular intervals or whatever... but she thought it best to ask anyway. A slight rumble was growing in her tummy, as well, and she wanted it satisfied before it got any louder.

She got them walking again - not toward the gates, though. She had other things she needed to buy as well... the clothes were just a reason to get Steve to tag along. Mostly things for the laundry room, bathrooms, and pool... but a few snacks to unwind with and perhaps a few older movies for him to watch before he left sounded good, too...

Chocolate sounded real good...

It takes Steve a few moments to recover from the small amount of time it took to zip and clasp the dress. When she turns around, he stands by his words in amazement. It's not that he hasn't noticed her beauty before. It's that now it's smacking him in the face.

When she makes that remark, Steve gives a shake of his head. "No. . .not at all," he says with a smile. He notes her blush again and finds it absolutely adorable on her. As soon as she leaves, his eyes follow her and he smiles again. It takes him a few seconds to remember that he's shopping for pants.

Steve goes around the store and resumes to looking for pants after taking the shirts again. For the heck of it, he finds some clothes that are more modern and picks them up. Dress shirt and pants. They seem to suit him enough. Once he's done and adds a pair of shoes to the mix, he nods to Mikayla and sets everything down. He feels terrible that she's paying for all this. He puts it into his head that he's going to pay her back somehow, even if not by monetary means. Even if she resists, he's going to do something for her. He mentioned it earlier before and he meant it.

"Thank you, Mikayla," Steve says while looking at her. Shortly after, he hears the clerk say something that he doesn't understand. Since the man smiles, Steve does too. He notices Mikayla's reaction and wonders what's wrong. He doesn't get a chance to ask before they're out of there before he can say anything.

Once they're out again, Steve takes the bags of stuff to make sure that she isn't holding anything. He looks around at the town and settles his gaze on her. "I can go for something to eat. I actually get hungry pretty easily." He chuckles a little and looks at her figure in the sunlight for a moment. He doesn't want to stare or make her feel uncomfortable, so he turns away and clears his throat.

Mikayla shrugged, then stared at him. "And don't even think about wanting to pay this back somehow, Steve. I need to get rid of some money anyway..."

She then blinked, and laughed. "Oh boy. Maybe if you stick around for any amount of time I might actually have to go shopping for food again." She released a soft, pretty giggle, then quickly pried one of the three bags from him - it had her dress in it, as well as the dress-wear he'd picked up. "A lady is capable of carrying at least one bag, Gentleman Stephon... that, and we might get some looks if you're carrying everything and I'm holding nothing."

"Come. Snacks and cleaning supplies can wait. _**Ristorante Il Pennello***_ is this way. They don't offer much but their food is great."

Mikayla lead him to the restaurant, then took their bags, tied them all together, and left them behind the front desk after a brief discussion in fast and fluent Italian. Then a waiter came out, and led them to a table by a window, handing them menus. Mikayla stopped him from leaving, and conversed with him for a moment, the word 'Americano' popping out a few times. After a moment, the waiter nodded, dipped his head with a soft "_**Perdano**_", then took his menu, replacing it with one in, viola, American!

She looked at Steve after sitting down, smiling. "Well. If there was ever a better way to spend my money, I haven't yet heard of it."

Her icy orbs directed themselves out the window, and she sighed. "Well... Either we rent some rooms tonight at an inn, or we ride home in the dark... Because after this, and the rest of the shopping, the sun will have gone down. Full moon tonight, though, so if you decide we should ride home, we'll at least have some good light to see by."

She then flicked her gaze around on the two-sided menu, biting her lip. The waiter came back, quickly placing before them two glasses of water and an empty wine glass each, then a vase with two white tiger lilies and a multi-colored rose in it. Mikayla smiled at the flowers, then sighed in defeat and chuckled, shaking her head, deciding to just essentially ignore the beautiful botany in front of her.

Steve looks at her with a small smile after she says that he shouldn't think of wanting to pay this back. He won't do it using monetary means, so he chuckles and shakes his head. She might get angry with him, but he'll do something for in retribution for what she's done for him.

Steve laughs softly at what she says about his eating habits. Then he feels her take one of the bags. He wants to argue. He really does but she's made up her mind and she's a strong-minded woman. He's not going to argue with the current times, so he just lets out a small sigh.

As they make their way to the restaurant, Steve looks at some of the people around them and would think that they recognized him as Captain America. They don't though. So if they're looking at him, it's probably because it's so obvious that he's an outsider.

Once in the restaurant, Steve takes a good look at it. Nice and small cozy place. Reminds him of something he'd find back home built by the Italian immigrants. He lets out another small sigh as he thinks of that. Then he hears Mikayla speaking with the man. He understands 'Americano' perfecta. He waits there, not feeling awkward at all to his surprise.

Steve thanks the waiter for the menu and walks toward the table. He waits for Mikayla to sit first before he does. Once she sits, he sits after her and hears her comment on finding something on which to spend money. "I think I know of something." Steve smiles at her after he says that. "I'm not telling you yet though. We'll see how the rest of the day goes first."

There he is being playful now. Steve is definitely starting to feel like his old self again. He glances at the menu for a moment but then gets sidetracked when he sees the flowers. Noting her expression toward them, he places on one more smile before glancing back at the menu. He thinks he already knows what he wants. It's a good thing because in his mind, he thinks he already knows what he's going to do for Mikayla and he's plotting it now in his head.

Mikayla blinked at his thinking, and opened her mouth to say 'What is that?', then shut it and made a face at the rest of what he had to say. Then she smiled, and nodded, though it was bugging her to know. To take her mind off of the new mystery, she started playing with the flowers, de-thorning the rose stem then twining the three flowers together into a sort of crown. She pulled the botanical headpiece under the table, where he couldn't see it, then looked to each side, as if making sure no one was watching. A few moments later, it plopped on his head, a near perfect fit. Mikayla let a little giggle slip out as she looked at him with his new hat, then cleared her throat and swept the room again. Good... no one had seen that. She hated trying to explain her control over shadows to the ignorant... usually because it led to a long but very not-peaceful 'slumber'.

When the waiter returned, she gave her order of 'Antipasto di affettati misti' with a small glass of red wine... which she then changed to 'just bring the bottle'. She gave him her menu, then waited for Steve to order, playing gingerly with the petals of the flowers. She carefully untangled them, then put the rose and a lily back, twisting the stem of the other and using fibers to hold it together, hooking it over her ear so that the flower poked out above it. She let down her hair, using the void-black locks to hide the twisted stem. She sighed, and rested her head on her hand, looking at her. "Is this how you were before? Playful, gentlemanly... just a wonderful bonfire of a person compared to the rest of these smoldering embers?" She gestured to the rest of the room, herself included.

"I really need to apologize for the last couple days... I should've been present more often. It was rude of me to invite you as a guest and then disappear... Have you visited the library, yet? I've literally hundreds of books on the happenings between the forties and now..."

Mikayla looked down, at her hands mostly, though her eyes wandered slightly. Her fingers were long and delicate - perfect pianist fingers. Maybe she played. They shook a little as she held them above the table, so she put them down. A sad thought flashed before her mind's eye, making her face fall. Why was she doing this? Letting these feelings emerge...

He'd said it himself, he was leaving soon. Or, rather, he didn't know how long he could stay. As if he really had any where to go... She knew this... But she also knew her heart was soft and aching and would stretch for any form of comfort even thought of being offered. It was how she'd always been, and how she always would be. Well... how she'd been for the last six centuries plus nine years.

"While we're waiting, do you have any more questions for me, Steve?"

Steve continues to look through the menu, just in case something else catches his attention. When he's sure that he knows what he wants, he suddenly feels something on his head. Following that is Mikayla's giggle. He reaches up with one hand to feel the flowery crown. He gives her a playful smile and takes it off so that he can look at it. How unique and different. His eyes move toward her and he says, "Oh, so you want to play sneaky with me. . ."

Honestly, Steve is very glad for this change in her. It's so different from the first time he met her and the moment when she revealed all those things in the kitchen. This side to her causes him to look at her differently, see her as a woman, and. . .

She's a nice person. Steve can sense that she means well. He shouldn't think more than that. He can't. Right now, he feels that she's a good companion and he'll probably want to keep in touch with her after this. She'll be his first female friend in fact.

When the waiter returns, Steve points to the dish that stood out to him. He's in the mood for fish, so he chooses the Pesce Spada al Salmoriglio. He gives the menu back and then smiles a little when Mikayla asks for the entire wine bottle. He looks at her once the waiter leaves. He watches as she leans her head downward on her hand. He's wondering what's going through her mind. Why is she looking at him like that?

Before he can break the silence, she does so first. Steve pauses at her question and chuckles lightly. "I appreciate you considering me those things, Mikayla," he tells her. "I just do what I can to treat others with respect. I always have." His eyes move toward the vase mindlessly and he briefly thinks back on his past. He wants to comment on how she considers everyone 'smoldering embers,' but he lets that go for now. He can tell that she doesn't think of herself as an actual good person but he sees something different in her. It's something that he can't explain and it's drawing him more toward her.

Steve shakes his head at her apology. "It's alright. . .really." He even smiles a little and looks back at her. "You're here now and that's what matters to me. You've treated me really well." He sits back in the seat and  
starts to turn the crown in his hands. "I've seen the library." He chuckles lightly. "Haven't gotten a chance to read anything yet. I think I'll get to that when we get back. It'll be interesting to read about what I missed."

Steve thinks a little more on that and looks at her again, watching her look at her hands. If only he knows what she's thinking. Her mind appears to be elsewhere and he has no intention of invading. When she asks her next question, he remembers something. He hadn't acknowledged her statement from before because his mind was too occupied on his surprise for her.

"Actually, more of a statement," Steve says. "I think staying at an inn will be better. I like this place anyway. I won't mind staying." He smiles a little. It'll give the horses more rest too. Riding so much in one day will make him feel like he's missed something. Now that he thinks of that, he does want to ask her something but he decides to save it for later. He doesn't want to make her feel awkward.

"Mm... I always play sneaky with people."

Mikayla sighed, then shook her head. "I shouldn't talk about these people like that... I don't know anything about the people from Florence... nor anywhere but Massa... and while Massa is a wonderful little town, she's got her bad apples that help ruin the whole bushel. Like the man that made me this monster... he was from Massa. Lived only a few doors down from us..." She turned her gaze up, then to him. "I wish more people were like you... or... I'd even take more people like Marcus."

She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to keep the smile on her face. Luckily, the smells of the restaurant were making it very hard for anything but a smile to perch. "Inn...? Oh, right. Okay. After dinner we'll find a place and I'll get our rooms." A pause. "Or are you the kind of man that requires a whole separate floor? Or inn?"

She'd met a man like that, who refused to sleep on the same floor as his lady friend. Talking to the woman, she'd claimed he'd once made her book him at a separate inn. While that seemed outrageous, the whole 'separate floor' thing didn't. She'd had that happen to her once, too...

She blinked, then grinned, when their food arrived within half an hour, having already received and poured them both a quarter-glass of wine. She coaxed the steam-carried aroma to her nose, smiling. "Mm... smells delicious." Her antipasto di affettati misti, or 'Salad of cured meats', gave off a mouth-watering mix of four different meats, with an actual salad on the side, with healthy helpings of tomatoes, carrots, and cucumbers and a light drizzle of ranch. Steve's dish was then placed in front of him, and it caused Mikayla to pause, her eyes blanking. She then shook her head, and let out the most delicate sneeze into her elbow, blinking more. "Wow... Vampyre deterrent. Interesting..."

She smiled, then dug in, mixing her vegetation and meats with each bite, careful not to smear her soft pink gloss on the fork too much, savoring the taste. She almost never ate out, so she always took her time eating when she did, because - though she was a fantastic cook - she could never get it tasting quite like that, even if she used the exact same recipe...

Mikayla tapped the prongs of her fork against her lips, thinking. "We need to get you a suitcase... And a few other little things. Traveler's toothbrush, maybe some Axe... just so you're prepared for wherever it is you go next. I can't send you off with nothing but a bag of shirts and pants and a pair or two of shoes. You'll need money, transportation, a form of contact..." She smiled, and looked at him. "I'm actually quite glad you decided inn was best. That way we won't have to make our way back here tomorrow to get you all stocked up. Better do it all in one trip, right?" Another broad smile, then she continued eating. She then chuckled. "And I'll have to teach you how to use most of the things we have anymore... Cell phones, credit cards... Wow..."

She chuckled again, softly. "This will be fun."

Steve listens to how she describes the people of Massa. He thinks that he understands what she means about the bad apples. It sort of reminds him of Nazi Germany. He doesn't mention that though. He just keeps the thoughts in his head and gives her a nod in understanding. He doesn't want to remark on what she says about the man that turned her to what she is. It's a horrible thing to think about and he knows that he'll have to accept it but he'll need time for that. He lets the remark go and lowers his eyes toward the flowery crown in his hands.

As soon as Mikayla mentions how she wished more people were like him, Steve gives a little smile but doesn't exactly look up at her again. He'll admit that he's glad that she finds him to be such a nice person. It's endearing really and for a man like him, it's very flattering. Yes, that's what flattery is considered in his age. Just calling a man nice or wishing people were like him.

Steve's eyes finally land on her when she asks the question concerning the inn. He can't withhold the chuckle that escapes him. "A separate inn or floor?" He seems puzzled and amused by both ideas. He sets the crown down beside him and shakes his head with another chuckle. "No, not at all. I'm not going to treat you like the plague." He pauses for a moment. "Same floor is perfectly fine with me." Of course the rest of the 40s custom should be obvious.

The food arrives before he knows it. Steve looks over and feels welcomed by the delicious smell. He's honestly never smelled food this delicious before. It greatly entices his stomach, which has continued to remind him how hungry his body is. He thanks the waiter as soon as the plate is set before him. Then he takes a quick glance at what Mikayla's eating. He smiles briefly and grips his fork and knife. He's about to cut into the fish until he hears her sneeze.

The vampyre deterrent thing makes Steve laugh lightly. "Oh. . .sorry about that. Would never have guessed." What is this? He's comfortable with a vampyre joke with her? That would have surprised him if he even noticed. Perhaps the fish and its rich sauce have captured too much of his attention. He cuts into the fish and begins mixing it in with the spinach before eating. Already, the meal satisfies him greatly.

Steve takes a sip of wine and looks at Mikayla when she mentions the items that he'll need. He gives her a smile, which he's been doing a lot recently. "We don't have to think about any of that right now," he tells her. "Maybe two days before I go, I'll remind you of all of that." He takes another bite of the fish. When he swallows the piece, he adds: "Thank you again though, for being so considerate."

It's true that it'll be easier to get him stocked up soon but Steve has no idea when he'll be leaving. When she mentions the things he'll have to be learning, he laughs lightly. "I can't argue with you there. It's already hard to get used to the fact that there are so many unfamiliar things being used. I just go along with it as best I can." Another bite of fish here. Then when it's gone, he talks again. "I'm actually glad that I'll be learning all of this from you. Now I know I'll be enjoying my lessons."

And he'll be a lot more comfortable.

Mikayla chuckled, shaking her head at his reply to her 'vampyre deterrent' statement. "No, don't be sorry. I didn't know either... It's not all that strong, anyway. Only the subtlest bother."

She paused when he said 'maybe two days before I go', her bite in her mouth, but the fork paused in its retreat. She then smiled slightly, pulling the fork out and clearing her mouth before speaking. "You make it sound like you have a set calendar date for when you're leaving..." Her gaze remained down. She really didn't want to talk about that... not now. "Even if you do... You're getting that suitcase and necessary toiletries tonight... just to be sure you've got somewhere to put those new grandpa clothes." She smiled, making a tender jest at him.

She ate a few more bites, and took a sip from her wine, before she spoke again. "It's a good thing it's only autumn right now. Tourists flock during the spring and winter... Had they been here, two separate inns might have been required, due to lack of space..." Since sharing a room wasn't an option, unless it was a two-room thing, with the bed in one and a couch in the other... But even then it probably wouldn't happen. "But Florence is empty of extra souls at the moment... getting rooms shall be no trouble."

She pulled her phone out, and placed it on the table, messing with it as she ate, careful not to get any dressing or meat juice on it. After a few minutes of sliding her fingers and tapping the screen, she smiled and put it away. "And there's our rooms, reserved for tonight, in the **Hotel degli Oraffi***. You are room 302A, I have 302B... they share closet space, but otherwise they're separate. Sound okay?" Mikayla looked up at him, one brow sitting slightly higher than the other, a smile perched on her lips.

She then pulled her phone back out, and messed with it some more. Then, she pushed it across the table, turning it so he could see. On the screen, many suitcases were visible. "Pick one. You slide your finger up the screen to make the list scroll up, then tap the image of the one you want. I'll have it delivered to your room..." The little things and snacks would have to be picked up separate, but that got at least one thing out of the way. For then.

She continued eating and watched him, sighing and resting in the chair when both plates were clear, sipping more on her wine, refilling it when it too was empty.

Steve chuckles at her little comment about having a calendar date for leaving. He really doesn't have an exact date. He plans to leave when he's ready, ready to see the outside world again and live in it. Most likely he will be returning to the Army to see what they have to offer him. They might have a place in their ranks for the former Captain America.

Former? Did he just think that? Steve has to remind himself not to think in that way. He can't think down on himself, regardless of his situation. For now, he shakes his head to clear that from his mind, focusing only on Mikayla as she speaks to him.

Smiling again, Steve sips more wine. "I guess a suitcase won't be so bad for the grandpa clothes. You have a good point." He chuckles at the fact that he made a joke of himself as well. It's weird to think of them as 'grandpa clothes' when his grandfather probably dressed like a Victorian.

Steve resumes to eating his food. He nods to what she says about the tourists. He can imagine such a place like Florence with plenty of people. He probably would have eventually traveled here on his own. It's such a beautiful location and he's glad that he hasn't missed it. He finishes his food with the thought of visiting other scenic places one day, if he gets the chance.

Steve can't help but set his eyes on her phone. Sure, he's seen the device before on other people but never up close. He studies it and finds it to be a fascinating technological invention, especially after she says that she booked the hotel from it. Wow. That seems more like something that Stark would have invented. He wouldn't have been surprised. "That sounds okay to me. Sounds great. It's a good thing you can reserve a room from here. Saves us a lot of time."

Steve finishes his fish and vegetables in one more bite. Then he sets the fork down in time for Mikayla to slide the phone to him. He stares at the screen and sees a suitcase. This is odd to him but he takes it like a picture. It's a picture he can interact with. Lucky he's seen some of Stark's works up close, or this would be even more awkward for him.

After a couple moments, Steve picks a solid brown suitcase with a couple black accents. He hands the phone back to Mikayla and thanks her. Then he sips on his second glass of wine. "I have to say this, even though it's obvious. It still feels strange to me to be treated by you." He laughs lightly. "Just wait until tomorrow. . ."

Mikayla smiled. "I know... They prefer reservations, even if it's as last-minute-notice as this. Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with walking in and asking, but they don't like that all that much." She looked at the phone when he handed it back, looking at the suitcase and chuckled. "You have a nice taste in luggage, Steve..." She inputted the address of the inn, then put her phone away, having no immediate use for it at that moment.

She tilted her head, smiling softly. "Wait until tomorrow? Well gee, what a great way to make someone have a hard time sleeping, Steve." She chuckled and sipped on her own glass... which was counting as number 3. She didn't want to put that amazing wine to waste, but she couldn't take it with them or she would. They still had roughly half the bottle left. She relaxed a little more in her chair, wishing it was more like her chair in her room so she could curl up in it. But it wasn't, so she settled for just slouching ever so slightly.

She dropped her gaze, then returned it up. "I... Was wondering if it'd be okay for me to ask... What was your love like? Obviously a very lucky woman, and a very good one, if she caught your eye. I'm just curious..." She rubbed her arm gently, not lifting her gaze for a moment. Each time she mentioned the woman the atmosphere got 'rainy'... She thought maybe if she got him talking about it, it wouldn't be quite as such. Maybe if he talked about it... Well, she wouldn't ever bring her up again intentionally if he did. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want, if you don't feel like talking about her."

Steve has no idea how many glasses of wine he's had. It doesn't particularly matter to him anyway since his genetic enhancement blessed (or cursed) him with the inability to get drunk. He pours himself another glass and smiles to her comment about his taste in luggage. "Thanks."

He then hides a small smirk behind his glass after she speaks again. "I guess it's a hidden talent of mine." He chuckles silently and sips more wine. This is such a casual encounter. They're talking about hotel bookings and things over glasses of wine. Yet Steve finds no boredom or sense of urgency to leave. He actually likes this. It's as if she never confessed so many macabre things in the kitchen this morning.

Steve thinks all of this until she mentions his "love." His body tenses up only a little bit. He doesn't expect her to bring up this subject. It's not that he's uncomfortable with it. It's just that. . . Well, why doesn't he think that Mikayla will ever want to know about that woman that meant more to him than anyone else? Why does Steve feel like this is an awkward subject, although he's freely spoken about it with others?

It's something he really can't explain. Yet. . .he answers her.

Steve's eyes lower toward the table as he holds his glass in one hand. He sees Peggy's face. . .imagines it in his head. It's been burned in there ever since he woke up in this era. Her porcelain skin, red lips, dark brown curls. . .her characteristics that he admired, even up to this moment. As her face and the sound of her voice flow through his head, he says, "She was. . .very tenacious. Strong-minded." He chuckles a little at that and drinks more wine. "She didn't take crap from anybody. She was even hard on me, which pushed me further toward what I wanted to do." Here, he starts to feel the pang and swelling in his chest. "She believed in me. . .even when I looked like someone not worthy to believe in."

Steve finishes the wine and finds himself refilling it immediately. The memory of Peggy affects him more than he would have imagined. It's like she disappeared within an instant. Overnight, so to speak. He parts his lips to say more about her but then he looks at Mikayla. He instantly freezes in his place. It's like he sees something that no one else does. Her face. Porcelain skin, dark curls, beautiful lips, and with a different set of eyes. . .more mystical. He looks at her in a way that was saved only for one woman in the past.

The woman whose face seems to be washed away with what he sees in front of him. It's something that Steve can't understand nor explain. . .

* * *

**1* - real restaurant**

**2* - real hotel... this place costs a freaking €100 per night per person!**


	4. I Have Dreamed

******_I don't own Steven Rogers, and neither does the other party... _****_However, Mikayla Silverblood, Marcus Khyte, the Little Lady, this version of a small Italian town called Masa Marittima, and this version of a large Italian city called Florence DO belong to me. None of them are worth stealing, but I'd appreciate them stay in my possession. Enjoy Chapter IV!_**

* * *

Mikayla got out of the shower a little bit after him, then let herself half drip dry. Then the towel was put to use, and she slipped into the jammies, walking out to the bed and face-planting the pillows, sighing. Now she was a little bit tired... But not enough. She turned, and crawled to the edge, then turned the television on again, switching from Animal Planet to the History Channel, turning the translation off. The in-video translation from Italian to American was horrible... she understood more from listening to the Italian version, being Italian and all. She turned the volume up a block or two, then got to listening. With walls as thin as they were, she knew Steve would be able to hear it... and 'World War Two' was something that was said in American anyway... which always confused her. But now she didn't care.

Part of her wished Steve would dare a bit and ask to join her. For some reason she didn't want to be alone. But she was, so she grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her, looking at the clock - it said 22:10. She felt more tired now knowing what time it was. Still hugging her pillow, she laid her head on another and continued to watch. She leaned over and turned on the light to make sure she wouldn't fall asleep, and continued watching the television, fishing her iPhone out of her purse and getting ready to do some research on a certain interesting subject that had fallen into her lap. What she found honestly surprised her... There was quite a bit of information given on him, and many artist's renderings of his deeds, looking so real they could have been photographs. Then... then there was something that made her heart melt for him all over again - a picture of Steve before he was enhanced. She couldn't help but save that picture to her phone's memory, then kept reading. Her eyelids drooped several times, but she attempted to keep them open, wanting to read the whole page. Then she found her name. 'Peggy...' And a picture... Her eyes widened, looking at that picture. Not for the same reason Steve had paused in the restaurant... but because she hadn't expected Miss Carter to be so beautiful. It didn't even register to her at the moment that they looked similar. But beneath that picture was the references... meaning the page was over. She sighed, and put her phone away, then returned her somewhat-blurry gaze to the TV, getting comfortable.

It wasn't long before her eyes closed and stayed that way... for a moment, anyway, or so it felt. She squirmed and talked in her sleep, then woke up with an incomprehensible shriek, one that definitely wasn't human. Human shrieks didn't cause television screens to lose picture and sound, both in her room and Steve's. She sat up, holding that pillow so tight it might burst, then looked at the clock. Half an hour... and such a horrible nightmare that seemed so real. So real that it brought tears to her eyes, which then spilled down her face. She hadn't had a nightmare in years, and none that could possibly happen. The plausibility of this one got her shaking and rocking on her bed, face buried in her pillow, willing herself not to cry. "It's just a dream, Mikayla... You don't have to be so scared over a dream..."

She looked toward the door that split their rooms, hoping that Steve had been asleep and that she hadn't woken him, then got back to rocking and hiding her face, letting the fabric soak up her tears.

Steve watches the talk show while grabbing a bag of pistachios. He eats them while laying comfortably on his stomach. As the minutes pass, he reaches over and pulls out a notepad and pen. He begins scribbling some notes down. These are his plans for tomorrow. He did say that he was going to pay her back for what she's done for him. Well. . .this is his way of doing so. He writes and writes, every so often looking up at the TV when something catches his attention.

For the time being, Steve keeps himself preoccupied. He puts the notepad away after he believes he's done. He sets it in one of the drawers and glances back at the TV. A commercial for an upcoming film is on. The special effects look amazing to him. He actually believes that these people can do the things that are portrayed in front of him. So there are more mutants or supernatural beings out there. This peaks his interest.

Steve eats another pistachio and looks over his shoulder as though he's checking in on Mikayla through the walls. He smiles to himself at the thought of her and then faces the TV again. He goes through his bags and grabs a book. It's actually a book on the Army and its most memorable soldiers. He opens it and as he skims through the pages, he's surprised to see an image of. . .

. . .Captain America.

Steve stares at it with his lips parted in partial surprise. He starts to read the caption when a shriek sounds through the air and his TV turns off suddenly. Being a man who responds to danger, he stands up quickly and looks around. The shriek came from Mikayla's room.

Not realizing the fact that he's still shirtless, Steve rushes forward and bursts through the door. He immediately sees her sitting up in bed, clutching at her pillow. "Mikayla. . ." he says, quickly going to the bed and kneeling beside it. Instinctively, he knows it wouldn't be right to sit on the same bed as her. He reaches over to set a hand on her arm. "Mikayla, what's wrong? What happened?"

Steve takes quick looks around her dark room and doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. It all confuses him. Had an unknown force attacked her or tried to attack her? He turns his head to look at her again, face full of concern.

Mikayla jumped and shrieked again when he touched her, so badly her rear end slipped off the opposite edge of the bed and she tumbled to the ground, landing with a solid thud. His unintentional frightening appearance plus flashbacks from her nightmare renewed the tears, and she curled up around that pillow, crying into it more. But with the calming of her heart, the waterworks slowed and finally came to a tame drizzle and a few sniffles, and she finally found her voice through the tears. "N-no, I'm okay... I'm... I'm sorry I bothered you... I just had a really... really frightening nightmare..."

She took a deep, albeit shaky, breath, then rubbed her eyes, wiping them. She stayed where she'd fallen, and just looking at her showed that she was terrified that whatever had happened in her nightmare would come true. After a while she returned her gaze to him, glistening with tears. "I'm sorry," she whimpered again. "You can... go back in your room if you want... I'll be okay." A pause, and a tear shed. "I think."

She was trying to use that pillow as a security symbol and a rag and a shield all at the same time. He was shirtless, she in her... less-than-adequately-covering nighties... This scene was quite improper now, wasn't it? But it was a body pillow so her clutching it ended up hiding most of her from... everything. Including the nightmare that had tromped her unwanted hooves in her room. She closed her eyes for a moment, then sighed, and lifted herself back into bed, hugging the pillow very tightly. "I wish I was a little girl again... there's no fault in a little girl curling up in an elder's lap when frightened." It brought out a tear-choked chuckle before she pressed her face into the beige pillowcase.

She didn't want to go to sleep again. Not until she got home. She never had nightmares when sleeping in her room... mainly because she had it protected against such entities as the nightmare. She needed something to distract her... and she wanted to ask Steve one more thing before he went back to his room. She fished her phone from her purse once again. "One more thing, Steve..." She swallowed somewhat hard, telling herself she wasn't scared and slowly starting to believe it. She turned the screen of her phone on, showing him the picture she'd saved with a tiny half-hearted smile on her lips. "Why didn't you tell me you were so gosh-darned cute when you were scrawny?

"Kinda makes me irked that I decided not to visit the States in the forties. I could have met you then." /That/ would have been interesting. Very interesting... Especially if he'd still gone through with the whole thing, the crash and freeze and everything... and then they met up again.

She yawned softly. It was obvious she was tired, but she wasn't going to sleep. Not after that. She didn't want any more of what she'd seen. She sighed, and rested her head on the pillow, her eyes dull and pointed at him.

Steve moves back when she shrieks again. As soon as she falls off the bed, he calls out her name and starts to move toward her. That's when she says that she's fine. He sees the way she clutches the pillow and ignores the fact that they're both half-dressed. He's more concerned for her well being.

A nightmare. She had a nightmare. It must have been a very realistic nightmare for her to act this way. Steve wants to reach out and set his hand to her again but he's afraid that she might scream again. So he keeps back and stays close. He has no plans on going back to his room yet. . .not until he knows that she's fine.

Steve parts his lips to say that but he seals his mouth shut. He thinks of the nightmares he's had. They had been horrible but he's never woken up like that. He's just woken up nervous.

Steve has to fight with every bone in his body not to take her and hold her to him. It's at that same moment that she mentions not being able to curl up in an elder's lap. "I might not be an elder but. . ." He clears his throat and moves his eyes away.

Shortly thereafter, he sees her reach for something. Steve notices it's her phone. When she speaks again, he feels a light flush. She saw him when he was his true self? The heat in his cheeks doesn't die down, especially when she speaks positively of it and shows him the background image in her phone. His pictures and information can be reached through the telephone now? That's amazing. Howard would be amazed.

Scratching the back of his head, Steve tries to smile. "Thanks," he says. "I still feel like that guy sometimes." Deep inside, he is still that man. The only thing that changed was his physicality.

Looking at her again, Steve decides to go over beside her. He hesitates at first but ends up putting an arm around her in comfort. He doesn't say anything. He just stays there, not wanting to move from her side as he holds her in the darkness.

Mikayla sighed, then smiled when he sat next to her and held her comfortingly. Seemingly unable to let go of the pillow, she leaned a little against him, her head on his shoulder... and once again apologizes. "I'm sorry I bothered you or woke you up or... whatever happened. I haven't had a nightmare in decades... and /never/ one like that. That was scary... It was so real... It's like I was there watching but I couldn't do anything..."

Her voice choked up as she spoke, and she stopped there to keep from bawling any more. This was rather embarrassing for her. Never in all her life had she broken down like this, especially in front of a man. She sighed deeply, wiping her face, then reached over and turned the bedside lamp on, so that he would be able to see. Then she resumed with the comforting, limited cuddle, no longer hugging the pillow, now curled in a ball and hugging her legs. The child she was forever trapped as was showing now in her need for contact... but the aged adult in her held the leash. She did no more than lean against him a little.

When he spoke about his former appearance, and how he still felt like that, she smiled. "Steve, you're always that guy... You've just got the body to make your words count a little more." She reached up, and petted his hair a little bit, kind of awkwardly, like she wasn't sure if she should be doing that. "Don't ever not be that guy... The minute you stop being that guy is the minute the world should be afraid..." She sighed, looking at the image herself. "I really wish I'd met you when you were smaller. Then I wouldn't feel so dwarfed next to you like I do now..." Even sitting down she was smaller than him... and curled up like she was, he could probably curl around her and hide her completely.

She seemed a little more settled down. She still trembled a little, and she opened her eyes as fast as she could whenever they had to be closed. But she was tired... "Rest assured you won't have to do this tomorrow... I never have nightmares at home... my room's protected against her." Her head was a little heavier on his shoulder, and her eyes stayed closed longer each time. Still she fought.

"Promise me one thing. If I fall back asleep promise me you won't let the nightmare touch me again?" She opened her eyes completely and looked at his face. Once again the child side of her was showing... She hoped he knew what she meant... that she meant the entity and not the actual experience... Though if the man could stop both she would welcome that.

She lowered her gaze again, then let her eyes close, her head resting on both his shoulder and her knees, some locks of hair falling forward as she allowed sleep to take her once again.

Steve somewhat tightens his hold on her when she leans against him. He whispers how she doesn't have to apologize to him. If he has to sleep here, he will and push his morals or beliefs aside. The well being of others always comes first, in his eyes. As she explains the nightmare, he becomes curious as to what it was about but he doesn't ask. He's not going to pry.

"It wasn't real though," Steve tells her when he hears the way she speaks. "It's gone. You're okay." He briefly strokes her shoulder and just sits there, acting as her shield, as her comforter, whatever she liked better. He pulls her a little closer, knowing that she's a little vulnerable, especially as she cries.

Steve feels this need to be there for her when she needs someone most. It's this instinct that instantly comes over him as he sits here with her. Though she's this creature who can probably fend for herself, he still sees a young woman who most likely needs someone by her side. He's willing to do that. It's probably the least he can do after all that she's done for him. Even if she hadn't done anything, Captain America's heart would prevail and end up desiring to comfort her.

Speaking of Captain America, she responds to his comment about what he said of his former appearance. Steve smiles a little bit as she pet his hair. He looks over at her. "I understand what you mean," he tells her before she sighed and continued speaking. He chuckles after she mentions being dwarfed beside him. Honestly, he somewhat likes it like that. It means he can really act as the shield as he intends on being for her.

Feeling her head become heavier against him, Steve still doesn't budge. Nor does he remove his arm from around her. Even at this point, he doesn't realize their lack of clothing. That's how concerned he is about her safety and security. "Even if I had to do this again tomorrow, I wouldn't mind," he comments. He's glad to see how much more at ease she appears. He didn't like to see that vulnerable and frightened Mikayla.

Steve's eyes fall on her face after she asks him to make that promise. He takes in her appearance for a moment before he actually responds. "I give you my word, Mikayla," he says sincerely. "I promise that I won't let any nightmare touch you again."

As the seconds tick and she seems to fall asleep, Steve gently strokes the top of her arm as he thinks of how nice it makes him feel to be this close to her. It's a feeling that he's needed ever since he woke up in this modern era. He remains in his spot, letting her sleep against him. To make her more comfortable, he leans over a bit so that she can rest against his chest.

"Good night, Mikayla," Steve whispers as he gently moves a strand of her hair from her face. "I'll keep my promise."

Mikayla smiled softly, and mumbled a 'Good Night' to him in response, then was quiet, gradually growing limper as time passed. She felt the safest she had in a while, and she shifted in her slumber, eventually hugging his arm close. For a long while, it seemed as if the nightmares had been scared off and Mikayla could be allowed to sleep in peace. But then the air grew so cold so quickly that ice laid itself upon their immediate vicinity and the air whined as heat was stolen from it. Mikayla shuddered and cuddled closer but that was it... for a moment, anyway. Then her brows furrowed.

The room darkened, and a seriously creepy child's laugh trickled through the air faintly. Ice cold wind gusted down their necks in a snort and the bed moved as if a great weight was applied to the other side. Behind them was the Nightmare - a very majestic looking entity in the shape of a horse, but it definitely wasn't one of pure intentions. Giant black bat wings reached from its withers and curled around them, and the ends of its blue mane curled and whipped and reached out like fingers of smoke. Several of them were stretched to Mikayla, in through her nose and mouth. The longer the Nightmare 'fed' her the worse she got. It seemed to not even notice Steve, its soulless white eyes wide and seemingly fixed on her slightly-squirming form, an evil smile growing in them. It tossed its heavy black head, throwing even more darkness around the room, its massive hooves taking another step, bringing it closer to Mikayla, its wings flapping in anticipation. /That/ was when it noticed Steve. Its eyes flashed to red, and it screamed in rage, rearing up and flinging its hooves at him. But they didn't touch him, going right through him instead. Frustrated, it gave up on him, and returned its attention to Mikayla, forcing the essence of frightening dreams into her faster, looking agitated, staring at him now.

Mikayla started reacting worse, talking and crying and shaking, her grip on his arm tighter. The beast stretched its neck forward, getting ready to touch her and deal the final blow to make her scream again, snorting and quivering in excitement. But as soon as its snout was to touch her, electricity arced from her forehead to it, causing the supernatural creature the fling itself backward and scream again, though this time in pain. The nightmare neighed in fury before leaping over them, crashing through the window and flying away, the pieces of glass disappearing and the window coming out as unharmed.

Despite all that noise, Mikayla stayed asleep, though now she seemed calm and peaceful and... happy. A small smile turned the corners of her lips up as she hugged his arm even tighter, then loosened her grip again, sighing softly. The nightmare had been scared off, and it was quite safe to say the rest of the night was one for good sleep. If he wanted to at that point he'd be able to get up and return to his room to sleep. Mikayla wouldn't notice, and she probably wouldn't wake until the morning, which was a good five, six hours away.

Steve falls asleep several minutes after Mikayla does. All these spent in the modern era, he's dreamt of the 1940s and of coming home to a celebration with signs that read: 'The war is over! Welcome home!' Soldiers were aligned everywhere and Peggy came out to greet him with a hug while speaking in his ear, saying, 'I thought I lost you.'

Those are the dreams Steve was used to having. Tonight is a different one though. He's on a field, a sunny field no doubt. He's on a white horse riding through the lush grass and smiling at something in particular. He smiles at this particular person or object because he had just finished returning from somewhere and was looking for them. He rides the horse along the grass, getting closer to this person. . .

. . .Mikayla.

Steve approaches her and she steps right up beside the horse, looking up at him in a way that is unfamiliar to him. Her mystical eyes are a beautiful, engrossing shade of blue. 'I thought I lost you,' she tells him.

He reaches down with one hand and responds, 'I was always going to come back.' Then he pulls her up onto the majestic horse with him. They ride through the perfect field that's touched with a variety of flowers and a sparkling stream toward the left side. Steve holds her gently to him in a protective fashion as everything appears perfect, making him feel a way that confuses him but he welcomes it.

Then things start to change. The blue in the sky starts to get milked with a grayish, foreboding color. The trees die, the grass shrivels, the flowers turn to ash, and the stream dries up. The horse transforms into one that seems to have melded with the macabre nighttime itself. It rears up and throws only Steve off, leaving Mikayla on to fend for herself.

For some reason, she can't get off the horse. She starts to cry while clinging on for dear life. The nightmarish beast starts to seep some dark, wispy energy through her skin and Steve is helpless on the ground. This ground starts to crack, this crack dividing Mikayla and him. A fissure sprouts forth and the horse's evil countenance seems to sport an evil grin. Steve doesn't sit there for long though. He can't. He can't sit here while Mikayla's face is so frightened and helpless.

Back in real life, Steve is clinging more tightly to the woman as the dark images pour into his head. The next image is of him running forward and calling her name. When he reaches the crack in the ground, he leaps over it and feels the burns of the fissure. That doesn't stop him though. He races toward the hellish beast and shouts Mikayla's name again. When the horse turns around and sees him, it seems to be angry. It screams out in fury and dashes off, dropping Mikayla in the process.

Steve catches her while the beast jumps into the fissure and disappears. Holding the woman to him, the sky starts to slowly become blue again, the crack disappears, the greenness returns to the grass, and the stream seems to bring life to everything around it again. "I'm here," he whispers to the woman in his arms. "I won't be leaving again. . ."

And that's the moment when Steve opens his eyes and finds himself in the room, still holding Mikayla to him. She is sleeping soundly, as though nothing had happened. His heart is pounding faster than usual. It was a brief sense of fear that crawled through him. Fear. . .of losing her. Without realizing too much of it, he leans over and kisses her forehead. It's at this moment that he realizes how grateful he is to have her here beside him.

About three hours before the sun rises, Steve reaches over to gently carry Mikayla in his arms. He tries his best not to wake her up at all. He's very quiet and doesn't make much movement. He sets her onto the bed and places the sheets over her body. He parts his lips as though he's about to tell her something but he stops himself after realizing what it was. He can't believe he was about to say that. Shaking the brief confusion, he looks at her for another moment and then creeps out of the room.

Steve has business to get to before she fully wakes.


	5. A First For Both

******_I don't own Steven Rogers, and neither does the other party... _****_However, Mikayla Silverblood, Marcus Khyte, the Little Lady, this version of a small Italian town called Masa Marittima, and this version of a large Italian city called Florence DO belong to me. None of them are worth stealing, but I'd appreciate them stay in my possession. Enjoy Chapter V!_**

* * *

Because the Nightmare had been working on them both – though her more – they shared the dream. But her side was less vivid - she only got bits and pieces of it, though they were plenty enough. But then it turned into a very happy dream, which was why she didn't wake up... well, she was thankful that she didn't wake up. When she did it was from the dream... the morning sun was peeking in and just touching her bedsheets, and she got the impression of something holding her. Looking around, she noticed the body pillow draped over her middle, feeling like the arm of a certain someone. She sat up, a little confused, not remembering being put down and him leaving. "Must've been while I was still asleep..."

She allowed herself more time to wake up, then got up and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked horrible, with a slight discoloration under her eyes, and no make-up. She combed through her hair with her fingers, and got it situated in a messy pony tail, then sighed and thought. Her current clothes were messy and dirty. All she had other than that was that dress. "Well... I'll have to ride sidesaddle but I can live."

She cleaned herself up a little, then changed into that little cream dress she'd bought, letting her hair down for it. She left her room and considered seeing if Steve was up and ready, but decided to not check. If he was sleeping she'd let him lie... He needed it more than her since she knew he probably got less than her. So she went down to the main lobby and got herself a cup of some pretty amazing coffee, coming back up and sitting in a chair to watch the Morning News and see if that day would be a good day to ride home. Reports checked out as a nice, sunny day... Maybe just a good day for a ride? Nah... he was probably tired of riding and the horses probably were too. That... and she /hated/ riding side-saddle.

She went down for another cup of coffee, bringing a second cup up and knocking on Steve's door with her foot quietly. "Hey, Steve, you up? Brought some coffee if you haven't gotten some yourself already..." She sipped her own, leaning against the door frame and waiting, hoping that he wasn't still asleep and that she wasn't bothering him /again/ that morning.

Steve spends the next few hours running a couple errands and taking care of some things in his room. He tries his best to keep a lookout for Mikayla in case she shows up anywhere. When everything seems to be clear, he resumes to whatever he's doing and double checks to make sure everything is intact. He doesn't know how she'll react to this but the truth is: it all has come out of him because of everything that she's done. If she despises everything, he'll take the blame for it. Whatever her reaction, he will try his best to work around it until he can do something that can make her happy.

When Steve believes he's finished overall, he steps out of the room and speaks with one of the housekeepers. He tries his best to communicate in the little Italian that he's read in his translation book. The female housekeeper gets his message and agrees, with a smile, to do as he asked.

After some time passes, Mikayla shows up at his door. The housekeeper happens to appear on time and in Italian, she tells her that 'Signore Rogers' is waiting for her inside. The housekeeper then opens the door and inside, a round table is set with a draping white cloth. A couple horse figurines stand in the center of the table. By these horse figurines are boxes of all different sorts of chocolates found within a small radius in Florence. A delicate tiara of flowers is set on the seat of one of the two chairs around the table. The curtains are flowing in the back due to the fact that the windows are open to let in the peaceful outside sounds.

And after a moment, Steve appears from the bathroom, wearing a button-down striped blue shirt and dress slacks. His hair is fixed to a 40s style but overall he's presentable. He steps out with a bouquet of flowers of all kinds - all different types he can find in Florence. He smiles as he sees Mikayla, that smile widening when he sees that dress on her.

"Good morning, beautiful lady," Steve says as he looks at her. "I know it's not much but I hope we can enjoy a nice meal together, if you haven't eaten already."

Mikayla was so surprised once that door opened that she dropped the coffees, her eyes widening. Luckily for the cleaning ladies her shadow was still alert, having known what Steve was up to, and caught them before they could spill, setting them on some coasters on a bed-side table. Her hand went to her chest, and a touched smile spread her lips, redirecting the few tears that grabbed the opportunity to escape. "Oh, Steve... I..." She chuckled softly, swallowing hard to stop the waterworks. "With me looking so horrible, too..."

She wiped her cheeks and stepped in his hotel room further, looking closer at what he'd set up. "Not much? Steve, this is more than anyone's done for me... Not even my husbands treated me to things like this..." Her last one had tried, she'd give him that... But it was a last-minute decision and she'd accidentally ruined it. For him to pull a surprise on her took foreplanning, and /that/ was what really touched her.

"I... Gosh, I wish you'd surprised me on a day I didn't look so horrible... But I'd love to eat with you." Again. Unless he'd planned those chocolates to be breakfast, it was a better plan than the donuts and croissants that the hotel offered for a breakfast... you'd think with it costing €100 a night they'd offer better food, too.

She walked in further, closing the door behind her, then looked him over after she reached the table. If he'd had a coat she would've considered this a formal date... But she told herself he was just being nice... That's what it was, him trying to repay what she'd done for him. She reached down and gingerly picked up the flower tiara, looking at them, chuckling when she remembered the three-flower crown she'd made him. Then she looked at the flowers he held. "You've..."  
She stopped. She didn't even know what to say. She was flattered, touched... and fell a step more for him... halfway down the stairs of affection, the picture of him she'd found having kicked her in the ass down a great majority of what she'd covered.

"No, I haven't eaten, just coffees. What's this nice meal you've planned for us?"

Her eyes were locked on those figurines... then the chocolates. Too much chocolate... She hoped he liked it as much as she.

Steve feels a certain amount of warmth when he sees her reaction. His smile is ever present on his face, even as the coffee cups almost meet their demise. He takes some steps toward her, enjoying every small moment that passes by. He's succeeded in making her happy, making her feel special, which she is. It's what he wanted to do all along. He's very surprised when she tells him that her husbands haven't done this much for her. A woman like her deserves to be treated specially every day, in his opinion. And it's not only the 1940s gentleman speaking.

He's speaking from his heart.

Steve takes her hand with his free one. "It's impossible for you to look horrible," he tells her. "You look gorgeous and I'm not just saying that." He kisses the back of her hand, which is something he's wanted to do for a very long time now. He then looks as she takes the tiara. He smiles again, just watching her. In all honesty, he would have only done this for one other woman, even if it was out of repaying someone. Had Mikayla been anybody else, he would have thought of something simple as thank you.

But no. . .Steve did this with all of his feelings behind his intentions. He went with his instinct and didn't take the time to question them. What came as a result was all of this.

Standing by the table, Steve reaches over to hand her the bouquet. "Well first. . .these are for you. They're a sign of a lot of things, including my thanks and my question to ask you. . .on a date. Mikayla. . .will you be willing to spend the day on a date with me, starting with a meal in this room? It's a small Florentine breakfast meal that I've had ordered specially for the two of us."

Steve stands in front of her, speaking sincerely and straight from within him. He never had the chance to go on his first date of his life. Fate prevented that from happening. But now he has a woman here in front of him - a woman who he would be more than happy to go on a date with. Although a small side of him thinks it's a betrayal to Peggy (since it still seems like she's waiting for him), a bigger side of him has settled with the fact that she would have been happy for him. If she's on the other side of life, she would have wanted him to move on. And that's what he had hoped for Agent Carter in return. He deeply hopes that she found a good man for her who was able to make her happy. The thought is a little painful but sometimes reality has its way of showing a man the secret treasures that life has to offer in lieu of the dark times.

Steve has come to realize that one of those treasures shares the same room as him right now.

Mikayla blushed quite brightly at both the compliment and the kiss, then used the bouquet she was handed to hide her face, giggling bashfully. Her giggle died suddenly when she heard the word 'date'. She was still for a moment, replaying his words in her mind to make sure he hadn't used it in any other way... then double, and even triple-checking. Hearing those words from that man, especially after the conversation they'd had a day previous, required it. Finally, finding no fault in her memory, she lowered the flowers from her face to reveal her brightest grin yet. "Not only willing, Steve... Honored..."

She then chuckled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I look like a zombie, but yes... I will happily spend the rest of this day on a date with you."

Those flowers... such beautiful flowers... She almost wished he'd waited until they'd gotten home. Then she could've put them in a vase to help them last longer. However... had he waited until then, it was a .001% chance that he could've possibly caught her in that dress. It wasn't that she was the kind of girl to buy and never wear... But this dress seemed more a 'special occasion' outfit... and simply waking up anymore wasn't one. Not after waking up the insane amount of mornings she did.

She dragged her finger across the lid of a chocolate box, smiling. "I know you were there, but managing to get the majority of my favorite kinds... I feel a little stalked." She looked over her shoulder, and smiled playfully. "I don't mind it though..."

She sat, still trying to get everything to run straight in her head, holding the tiara gingerly, just letting it rest on her fingertips, stroking the petals of one delicately. She sighed, and chuckled once. "You're making me feel like someone worth bothering about," she said softly, looking him right in the face, her fingertips idly playing with the edge of her dress now that the flowers were out of her hands.

She hoped her unkind words toward herself didn't completely ruin it. It was such a habit to speak so lowly of herself that she didn't watch it anymore. Toward the end, with Marcus, she'd been better at catching herself, but it had been forty years since then. Temporary corrections to old habits die just as easily as the habits themselves die hard.

When she stops giggling, Steve thinks that he made a mistake in asking her on a date. It's the first time he had taken any initiative and despite how he asked her, he had been very nervous to do it. If she rejects him now, he'll be a little disheartened but he wouldn't take it too personally. He'd probably even understand.

He doesn't have to think too deeply on that though because she tells him that she would be 'honored' to go with him. That produces the smile right back over his lips. Steve chuckles at what she says and shakes his head. "Zombies must be precious-looking creatures then if that's what you mean." He laughs lightly again and looks toward the door a moment, expecting the food to arrive anytime soon.

Steve doesn't exactly have the whole day planned but he does know where to start. They'll take it from there, he figures. He finds himself laughing again when she mentions the stalking thing. "Well, a man has to pay close attention to the woman he's trying to impress. You know, get to know the littlest details about her."

After she sits, Steve does so right after. Of course he had been waiting for her to sit first. To her negative remark about herself, a soft sigh expels from his lips. "You are actually," he tells her. "To me, you really are, Mikayla. Do you know how amazing it made me feel knowing that you enjoyed all of this?" He pauses and looks directly at her face, wanting to tell her something that's been on his mind. "You know, after spending so much time with you yesterday, I've come to realize that. . .I - "

And then there's the knock that arrives at the door. Steve looks over and lets out a sigh, almost out of relief. It's like a burden was released from him. Maybe this is fate telling him that now isn't the right time to tell her what's been on his mind. He glances at her with a smile. "Looks like breakfast is here." He gets up and goes to answer the door.

Mikayla's blush never left her face. All these things she'd been doing without even knowing she was doing anything. She chuckled again at his explanation for his knowledge of what she liked. "Because the little things, when added up, outweigh the big things," she added quietly, her eyes directed at him once again when he continued speaking...

An encouraging look started to develop in her gaze when he paused, then died when the knock came. She sighed. 'Saved by the bell,' she chuckled to herself, sniffing the air once Steve opened the door. She smiled, the aroma delicious, and looked at him. "So... what exactly did you order us? Or did your lack of Italian leave you to just deciding what /looked/ good and picking by that?" A teasing grin. Of course she was going to tease him about taking her out on a date... in Italy... while barely knowing any Italian. /That/ took guts and a fair amount of affection.

After everything was set, she rubbed the back of her neck, wincing when she felt a very tender spot... which brought a question up that begged to be asked. "The Nightmare... How did you scare it away? I know you did, because the... not-pleasant dream ended before it got to the worst part, but... How? You don't know any magic... or do you?"

She remembered being half awake when the best leapt over them in her room, kicking her in the back of the head. Being only half as strong after being electrocuted, she wasn't flung forward with a split skull. Instead, her head just whipped forward, and she had a nasty bruise. But she could have sworn Steve was asleep the whole time, so how had he done it? Had he fought it in an astral form? That would explain her thinking he was still asleep...

She smiled. "I know this isn't the most ideal breakfast conversation... But I had to ask while I remembered, or I'd probably never remember to ask at all." She wondered... with the Nightmare being a rather corporeal entity when manifested to manipulate peoples subconsciousness while sleeping... she wondered if anyone below them had heard the heavy hooves of the spirit. That would be something for the hotel... 'Any comments before you leave?' 'Yes, we heard horse hooves in the room above us. We think someone snuck a horse past you.' With the hoofprints 'burned' into the carpet and bedsheets in her room... how would she explain that...?

The smell instantly wafts through the room once Steve opens the door. The server is there with a cart, being welcomed by Steve immediately. He walks him to the table and sets the cart right beside it. In Italian, he tells the both of them to enjoy. Then he smiles and walks out. In his own way, Steve has already tipped the housekeeper and the server.

Once the door is closed, Steve listens to what Mikayla says and chuckles. "I did my best, that's for sure. If none of it is to your liking, it's because I might have ordered the wrong things. Don't be surprised if there's a steak somewhere here." He jokes right back and lifts all the lids from the plates. There are a variety of light foods ranging from biscotti, cornettos, coffee of course, eggs, butter, and jam. It's the best he can come up with while in Florence. He doesn't know his way around and it was actually difficult to order this but he tried.

"Hope you enjoy it," Steve tells her while taking a seat again. He reaches over to take an empty plate. "What would you like? Don't you move from there. I'll get it for you." While he grabs the tongs and serves her breakfast, he listens to what she asks him. It really isn't a typical conversation but honestly enough, he's actually been thinking of the dream he had tonight. The vision of that nightmarish beast is still burned within his mind, as though it were real. He doesn't know that it, in fact, is a real creature that manifested itself into the room like a hooved wraith. He pauses before he serves himself.

"I. . .I don't know what I did or how I did it," Steve answers honestly. "I don't know any magic. I'm just. . . Well, you know." He's just the so-called perfect human. He doesn't have any magical abilities beyond that. "I remember the dream perfectly. I remember wanting to help you, wanting to save you from. . .from that thing." In truth, he doesn't even find it weird that they both know what they're talking about. They must have had the same visions but he doesn't question that. "I wasn't going to let it take you or do anything to you. . .so I attempted to fight it. Before I could. . .it just seemed to get angry and. . .disappear. I didn't understand it but I didn't care either because. . .I had you with me again and you were safe."

Steve's voice softens at his last set of words. He holds a reflective expression on his face. He looks at her for a moment but he doesn't want to weird her out, so he proceeds to serve himself, all while still thinking back on that realistic dream.

Mikayla had started to get up when the cart was at a stop, then blinked, smiled, and seated herself when he told her not to move, telling him what she wanted from there. "Honestly, I wouldn't've minded the steak. I'm very touched that you did all this, Steve... especially since you hardly know any Italian." That itself showed to her his affection.

His answer to her question left her wanting. Perhaps she should have clarified. "No, I... I don't mean in the dream it fed us. I'm talking about reality... Whatever form you see the Nightmare in, is the form it takes while in the real world..." She paused, taking a few bites of her food, thinking. "You see... There are nightmares, and then there are Nightmares. The first will leave you nervous, perhaps, when waking up from it. A Nightmare is an... 'adventure' that is fed to you by a very malicious spirit, and is normally controlled by them. If they have their way the dream ends up being the thing your heart fears most. Sometimes..." She paused again, like what she was about to say could get her crying. "Sometimes the monster shows you things it's going to do, in the form of a dream. The one I had last night, before you came in and protected me..." She didn't know if she wanted to talk about. Just thinking about it made it hurt to breathe and her eyes sting. So she shook her head and smiled. "Is perhaps a story best left for another time." She had time. There was no way it was one of the 'premonitions'...

… Right?

She made herself savor the meal. She was oddly starving, but instead of wolfing the first few things down, she ate slowly and lady-like. "This is pretty good... Personally, not nearly as good as the meal you cooked back home, but... it's good."

She needed conversation to distract her from painful thoughts. She searched his room for something to talk about... and her eyes eventually landed on him. So she offered him a smile, waiting until her mouth was clear before she spoke. "You look very nice, Steve. I find it funny that grandpa clothes make you all the more handsome."

Maybe because he was a natural-born forties man. She didn't know why but there was a face to every generation. Men from the forties looked so different than the men from now. Modern men wearing old men's clothes looked weird, just as older men wearing modern clothes did. Being born in the very early nineteen hundreds, it was natural for him to look his best in attire from his time. But boy did he make old look good.

Steve pauses before he even proceeds to take a bite of anything. The real world? That. . .thing. . .he saw in his dream can be in the real world? He shakes his head, wanting to understand. "If it was in the real world. . .I don't know how I fought it off. . ." he says this thoughtfully and then hears the rest of what she has to say. He puts some jam on the cornetto and continues to listen. He pauses midway because what she says is somewhat shocking. A Nightmare exists? It has the ability to do that? What did Mikayla see? What did it show her?

She doesn't answer. She just leaves the sentence unfinished, although Steve is very curious as to what frightened her so much. He looks at her, anticipating what she's going to say but then she changes the subject. He wants to tell her that he's interested in knowing but perhaps the dream is way too dark to speak about right now. He looks at her a little longer in final hopes that she'll say it but she talks about the food.

With a small smile, Steve nods and takes a bite of the cornetto. "It's better than I thought it would be," he comments. He eats more and stops thinking about any nightmare or Nightmare when she compliments him. Still not used to compliments, he feels a little bashful and says, "Thank you, Mikayla." He can tell her again how gorgeous she looks but he doesn't want to tire her of the remarks. He'll probably say it again later. For now, he smiles again and chuckles at the 'grandpa clothes' comment. Regardless of how many times she says that, it's still amusing to him.

Steve continues eating while letting the silence settle for some time. He looks out the window for a moment before setting his focus on her again. Perhaps his dream was some sort of sign - a sign telling him that he should protect her in some format. He did get the idea last night that he wanted to be some sort of shield for her but now it's become more emphasized. Whatever she saw last night in her mind. . .he somehow caused it to dissipate. If he had that ability, perhaps it's best that he. . .

. . .think about something else, Steve.

"I'm sorry if by the end of the day, I don't live up to your standards of an amazing first date," he finally says with a sheepish smile. "I've never done this before." It's not something that Steve admits to everyone. As a matter of fact, he's quite shy about the subject. He finishes his first plate and moves on to the eggs and biscotti. He's never eaten these foods before but they're appealing to his taste.

Mikayla chuckled, nearly done with her food already. She was eating politely, but that didn't stop her from taking big bites. "You've already passed my standards... I've never been on an amazing first date... I've never even been on a normal first date. What you're doing here, for me... This is what one should expect on a first date. Complete surprise and something wonderful."

Most people asked a day or two before if they'd like to go on a date. But she thought this was better - a little something special cooked up on his own, then asking her right there. Even if she hadn't been interested in going on a date with him... because he was /that/ adorable and because he put all that hard work into it, she would have said yes. Which would have unfortunately sent the wrong message... but she wouldn't've been able to stand the look on his face if she'd turned him down after all that... Luckily, that wasn't the case. She was very happy with this.

She sipped her coffee, watching him eat. "So. Do you have the rest of the day planned out or will this be a spontaneous thing?" She had a feeling this date thing was spontaneous. They'd only known each other for three days. But then again, a good friend of hers had a date after she'd met the guy, then married within the week. Things could go faster. But she felt lucky Steve was the way he was... 'fast' was not in his vocabulary when involving relationships.

Mikayla placed her empty coffee cup down, then had her shadow fetch the two on the bedside table, setting them down between them and picking her cup up. It wasn't the warmest anymore, but she'd gotten it to the perfect taste and she didn't want it wasted. It had only been about fifteen minutes since she'd gotten it... It should be fine.

Steve is relieved and glad to hear that he's doing so wonderfully in her eyes. He starts to eat the eggs while feeling quite shocked and proud of himself for being able to pull this off. This is his first time and already, it's working out great.

Enjoying the eggs, Steve takes a brief look out the window. He had been so busy with planning this entire meal that he never got to know the place. Therefore, he doesn't really know where to take her. He'll try to wing it and go with his instincts. He can't lack confidence now. Out in the fields, he's so sure of everything but with a woman. . .his mind draws a blank.

Then, as though she's reading his mind, Mikayla asks her next question. "This is actually the most I planned out," he tells her. "I figured that we can walk our way around and see what the city has to offer us." He pauses. "I did do a bit of quick reading and saw that there are a lot of great sights to enjoy."

Steve smiles a little and finishes his eggs more quickly than he thought he would. He takes the biscotti, dips it in the coffee and bites. Even if they don't do anything too extravagant, he knows that he'll enjoy himself.

It's a shame that this isn't New York. There are many spots where he would love to take her. They would definitely end up dancing. . .which could be the case today. Anything can occur. What he does know is that he wants to make the most of his time with her, so when he leaves. . .

Yes, Steve will have to leave soon, at least to go rejoin the Army. It's not a thought that he wants to settle on too much, so he finishes the biscotti, leaving only the coffee now. He does silently admits that he enjoys how she can control her shadow to do things for her. It's the reason for his slight smile behind the coffee cup.

"And. . .we can go whenever you're ready, beautiful dame." Oh yes. . .a little 40s lingo.

Mikayla smiled, then stood, hooking some hair behind her ear. "Ready when you are."

It was a good thing the thought of him leaving had slipped from her mind. That coupled with this would not create a pretty child. But while she was blissfully ignorant of his upcoming leave, she could enjoy his time. "Well, your reading up has left you more knowledgeable of Florence than me, I'm sure. All I know is that store and the restaurant we went to, and a few other shopping locations. I..." She chuckled softly. "I'm not usually one for sight-seeing... Usually if my eyes get caught the day flies by and I'm stuck away from home another night. Most people wouldn't mind that... But if it's not planned it can get annoying... Plus, being away from home too long makes me feel very homesick and queasy. I don't know why, I just do."

She thought for a moment, and opened her mouth to suggest something, then closed it and shook her head. She'd been about to suggest him taking her somewhere he really knew - New York - but the idea suddenly lost its appeal. For one, that was a pretty big step... a long travel on the first date? Ha. Secondly... she was scared that if they went there... she would return alone. She knew he was going to leave eventually...

And there was the mood crasher. She sat down again, and for a moment her face changed from very happy to 'about to cry'. But only for a second. Then 'very happy' popped back up, and she rose again. "Sorry. I felt a little woozy for a second there. But I'm good now."

She smiled. The only evidence that she had been at all sad was the fact that her eyes had lost a tiny bit of their sparkle. But really she didn't look any different. If they were going to go out walking, she would need her shoes and her purse, so she excused herself for a few moments to get them, returning to his room afterward. "Alright. I'm ready for whatever you throw at me, Signore Rogers."

She slipped her shoes on quickly, hooking her purse strap over her shoulder.

Steve stands after her. He briefly glances around to make sure that he isn't forgetting anything. When he realizes that he isn't, he looks at Mikayla again and chuckles. Then he pauses as she mentions that sightseeing isn't her thing. He shakes his head. "Then we don't have to do that. We'll do whatever catches both of our attention."

If only Steve had known what she was thinking about traveling to New York. It would have made him smile and probably laugh for reasons that he only knows. If he did go with her there, there's a very high chance that he would want to stay. It's his home after all and he has a lot of which to come to terms. He doesn't think of any of that though because he has no idea what races through her thoughts and changes her mood.

Steve takes one step closer in concern, thinking that she had been hurt by something. But then, as click as flicking on a lightswitch, she returns to being cheery. It puzzles him to an extreme. He looks her over, very tempted to ask if everything is okay.

He shouldn't ruin the mood though, right?

Steve doesn't notice the tiny hint of sparkle lost in her eyes. He's still focused on her change in mood. Does it have to do with that Nightmare? He thinks about that as she excuses herself. Perhaps he's thinking too far into things but now that he focuses on it, being around Mikayla has produced some dark experiences. Her confession about herself, the gravestones she showed him, her screaming in the middle of the night, the Nightmare. . .and now her brief - but not trivial - mood change. Any other man might think it a good idea to leave, even if it's sudden and seemingly void of explanation.

Still, Steve finds many reasons to stay, especially as she returns, glowing in his eyes. He offers a small smile. "Alright," he says. "Let's head out then." He walks her to the door, which he opens for her. Then they make their way through the hotel and out of it, walking the streets afterward.

Steve almost can't believe the initial doubts he had earlier. He was going on this grand date with her for a reason: a reason - while sweet and endearing - that is still somewhat of a mystery to him.

Mikayla had said sight-seeing wasn't her thing. But there she was, walking next to Steve, letting those arctic blues take in the sights. And loving it. If she thought Massa Marittima was beautiful, Florence was gorgeous. She felt like exploring Florence as she had Massa, but stopped, remembering Steve. He couldn't do that. To keep her feet on the ground, she bit her lip and wrapped her cold hand around a few of his fingers, still looking around. Her grip tightened for a moment, then loosened again, and she sighed.

She almost didn't want to do this anymore. She almost considered eating something she knew would make her sick for lunch when that came around. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't have the heart. Not to him. No... to him... she'd rather hug and cuddle him to death than hurt him in any way. She almost let 'I'm sorry' slip out, but then she realized she'd have to explain so kept quiet, but her grip on his fingers tightened again.

After some walking, they reached the Arno River, and the Ponte Vecchio that spanned it. Mikayla lit up immediately upon spotting it - Ponte Vecchio was really the only thing she knew about Florence other than the few places she'd found. "We should cross the bridge... the view from it is astounding at the edge at both sides, and the metalwork, silversmithing and goldsmithing in the shops is just..." She couldn't even find a word to describe it. But really, not being all that big on jewelry, she wanted to see the view. Maybe even from a point that no one got to see from - the top of the roofs of one of the shops.

She slipped through an alleyway between two stores, pausing at the edge. Two things made her pause - the view of the water and the city on both sides, and the drop. It was a pretty far one. Even still, she wanted to see. She looked back at Steve, and smiled, then rounded the corner, using her shadow to help her stay up as the edge of the bridge was mere inches wide. She stuck her head around the corner. "Are you coming up with me or is the view down there sufficient?"

She chuckled, then helped her shadow pull her up, unable to bend her legs too much thanks to that dress. But because she was so small and light by nature, and her jumping ability heightened considerably because of her vampyrism, she reached the rooftop in no time, sitting on the edge and looking out. She looked around for security, then looked down at Steve, grinning brightly. "We should come back here later... have a picnic dinner here maybe. This really is a beautiful spot..."

Steve takes in all the sights of the city. Although he had gone around it during most of the morning, they walk through sections that he didn't visit. Although he hasn't seen modern New York yet, he knows it looks nothing like this. There's a certain beauty to this city that he can't describe. He'll remember it for a long time, even if he doesn't come back to visit. Well. . .he should return to Massa at least to visit Mikayla someday. Being separated by an ocean will make him miss her quite a bit. He's not so familiar with modern technology, so he's not so sure as to how he'll keep in contact with her.

When Steve leaves though. . .what will she do? Will she just continue on carrying daily life the way she did before they met? Perhaps. He can't say that he -

His thoughts shatter as soon as she takes some of his fingers in hers. Steve automatically feels the coldness but he doesn't let it get to him. He manages to glance over at her when he feels a squeeze. He smiles slightly, seeing her glance around at the sights, although she specified that she isn't a fan of sightseeing. He wants to say something but he lets the silence do the talking for now. She seems to be in deep thought. They'll have plenty of time for words later. After all, this is a day's long date. Regardless of what happens, he knows that he'll enjoy it.

When she mentions the bridge, Steve looks ahead and listens to her. "Sounds great," he says. "Let's go." He follows her through the alleyway and looks ahead. From what he can see, everything is spectacular. He doesn't get enough time to drink in the scene because she disappears around a corner. He pauses for a second and steps forward. He then sees her pop back and speak to him.

Chuckling, Steve steps forward again. The edge is very narrow but has that stopped Captain America before? No, it hasn't. He shouldn't even think about whether or not he can do this, regardless of the fact that he hasn't put his capabilities to use recently.

It doesn't take long for Steve to do the same thing that she did, only without the use of a shadow of course. He naturally leaps high up onto the roof and sits down beside her, arriving in time to hear what she says. This view is absolutely spectacular. He falls in love with it immediately. That's the reason why it takes him a few moments to reply. "Yes. . ." he says, his eyes glancing over everything. "We definitely should. This can be the last thing we do before heading back." He smiles a little and looks over at her.

Mikayla would probably do literally nothing for days after he left. But then she'd come to terms with the fact that no matter what, she always lost everyone, just not always by death... and would continue with her life nearly the same as before. Major differences in some things, but mostly the same...

But she doesn't want to think about that right now. They're on a date... which she still was having second thoughts about. She looked over at him when he looked at her, and smiled as well, then sighed, looking down. "You know... you're the first foreigner I've ever dated... I've... I've had a drink from a few, but I've never dated them, even though I've had many ask... I wouldn't allow it..." She smiled and chuckled once. "I just couldn't say no to you... not after all that you did. And not with your face... you've got the face of a puppy... a really big, strong, gentle puppy. You can't say no to a puppy."

She looked around, still enjoying the view, then froze, seeing the guards that were climbing up a few buildings away. She slowly reached over, and grabbed his wrist, then plunged them both into the shadows just as the guards looked over. Being a shadow was a very weird experience - it felt like freefall, but it was obvious they weren't moving. Air seemed to be more difficult to get, and the vision was more thermal and x-ray... if he wanted he'd even be able to see through the walls. She kept them there until the guards left, then pulled them both out of the shadows, looking at Steve. "Are you okay? Sorry about that, but... it's not exactly legal to be up here. Couldn't let us get caught in the beginning of our date. Maybe in the very end, after dinner... But not the beginning."

She looked out, then back at him. "Well, you can see most of the landmarks from up here... Where do /you/ feel like going now?" She smiled, eyes bright. She hadn't said she wasn't a fan of it... but she hadn't clarified verbally why she didn't want to... before the date she'd planned on them going home that afternoon. Sight-seeing was usually an all-day thing. But she'd willingly stay another night now.

Steve's eyes manage to pry away from her so that he can look out to the city. A dark heaviness starts to hang over him. It's almost as if the Nightmare is reaching out and affecting him, telling him that he should go and that it would be better to leave her alone. The day started off so splendidly but for the next few moments, it seems like a rain cloud looms over his head.

Stop it, Steve thinks. And everything vanishes, Mikayla's voice breaking in through the dreariness. Such a relief. He looks at her, almost as if he'd just finished running a marathon, subtly catching his breath and all.

Steve smiles a little at first. He's the first foreigner? She's his first everything. Peggy would have been the first foreigner but that's another story. He even slightly chuckles at what he hears and looks at her briefly before glancing at the city once more.

Then his smile fades.

A puppy? Is this why she's here? Because she feels bad for him? Steve doesn't want her to do that for him. He doesn't want her to feel forced. He releases a breath and glances downward. That mysterious dreariness starts to seep in again. It tells him that he's not supposed to be happy. He's supposed to make other people happy.

Funny thing is. . .he'd accept that fate without hesitation.

Before Steve can remark, he suddenly feels suspended in air. He's about to try and fight back but he realizes he's in some sort of void or alternate view of the world. Is this. . .the shadow realm? If so, it looks absolutely fantastic and wipes away that nightmarish essence that seeks to crawl over him.

Once out of the shadows, Steve exhales loudly. "That was incredible," he says lowly. Then he looks out when she says it's not legal to be up here. He even chuckles a bit.

"Well, wouldn't be the first time I do something illegal." Steve thinks a moment. He knows nothing about this place. What can they do? What would he do in the 40s?

"We'll do everything," Steve tells her. "Come on." Trying to forget the dark presence from earlier, he takes initiative by reaching for her hand and standing. "We're going to do everything we can in Florence. Whatever it is young couples do when they're wandering the city." He flushes when he realizes his mistake in saying 'couples.' He looks back at her. "Not that we're. . . I was only. . ." He shakes his head and chuckles at himself. "Come on."

And with that, Steve moves like an action hero to get them from the roof. If they're going to have an adventure, might as well start now.

Mikayla gasped, and gave him a mock surprised look, gently smacking his arm. "Hey, you're like... good incarnate. You're not allowed to do illegal things... That's my job."

She giggled at his slip-up and the word that flew from his mouth, moving with him with ease, as if she did that every day. "I know, hot shot... we're not a couple. And before... Don't you ever let that smile fade... every time your smile dies, so does a kitten, okay? No more killing kittens!" Of course that wasn't true, but... "I'm not out here only because I couldn't say no... I didn't want to. I want to be out here, with you, all day... okay?" She smiled at him.

What did 'young couples' do in Florence? They enjoy the sights, they eat a meal and share the dessert, they take pictures, they window shop, one causes the other to do something embarrassing... Cutesy lovey things like that... Things Mikayla wouldn't even dream of doing with anyone... even if they had been a couple she'd sooner lock herself in the shadow realm than do things like that... Mainly because, she'd never tried. And when it came to cutesy lovey... she'd never known what that felt like.

What was there really to do? "Let's see..." Mikayla had looked things up on her phone, seeming to float right alongside Steve. "There are museums and galleries galore... wine tastings... seeing the Statue of David seems to be a big thing... spas... even more museums and galleries... University of Florence's Natural History Museum... Hey, how come that wasn't there when I went there...?" She mumbled for a moment, then sighed, flicking through her phone. "More wine... shopping - window shopping - the Fountain of Neptune... we already saw that, though. There's the Villa Gamboraia, which is pretty much just a large, fantastic garden... It's a few miles from... right here..."

She put her phone away after silently reading for a few moments. "And then even more museums, galleries, and wineries... And then our picnic dinner on top of the bridge. So there's your list." She smiled. If he wanted to do everything... then he would be the one carrying a drunk Mikayla driven insane by art back to the hotel, strapping her into her bed until she calmed down again.

Steve chuckles at the things that she says initially. Good incarnate? He's never been called exactly that before but he takes it to heart. He's glad that she takes his slip-up with good humor. It makes him feel better.

Steve looks at her at the kitten comment. At first, an expression of surprise falls over his face. Then he smiles and says, "Then I can't afford to kill anymore kittens. . .even if you kick me out of the country." Her next remark sends a warm feeling through him. He gives her a softer smile this round and wants to thank her and say that he's glad to be here but he stops himself.

Less words are more meaningful. Let the nightmarish presence try and take over his mind now.

Steve then moves swiftly across the roof with her, listening to the suggestions. It's funny because he was actually considering an art gallery. He did say that they'll do what visiting couples do. He'll take her to all the galleries, offer her wine in-between when they go wine tasting, see the museum gallery, perhaps a spa if there's time and if she's interested, and then as they walk from place to place, he'll remark on how lovely she is. It's the typical 1940s date and the only things he knows how to do. Everything else, he'll have to wing.

"Alright, beautiful dame, off to one of the art galleries first then." Without warning, Steve turns and swiftly scoops her up in his arms. He leaps down until they're back on the ground again. Perhaps many eyes fell on them during the process but he doesn't care. He knows that Mikayla is very capable of landing on her own. He just wanted to be spontaneous though, regardless of how scared and shy he is of being so.

Once on the ground, Steve gently sets her down and chuckles. "Time to go and begin in one of the museums. There's a lot of art to see and so many hours in a day."

Mikayla squealed in surprise when he scooped her up rather unceremoniously, flailing for a second before latching onto him quickly, her nails digging in slightly and her face against his neck. By the time they reached the ground, and her own two feet touched it, she was laughing, stumbling a few steps back with a hand to her chest. "Goodness, Steve, I didn't know giving a lady a heart attack was part of a typical 40's date!" She chuckled, momentarily giddy on the adrenaline that shot through her system when she was no longer in control... but she calmed down soon enough.

She nodded, pulling her phone out again, checking to see which one was closest. She pointed in a direction as she put her away. "Closest one is this way." She smiled at him, and started walking in that direction, getting a little irritated with the limited mobility the dress offered, sighing. She'd finalized its purchase because of Steve's reaction... she hardly ever wore dresses, and the two others she owned definitely weren't anywhere near this restricting.

Museo Nazionale del Bargello, that was their first stop. Main attraction? An unrivaled collection of Italian Renaissance sculpture. The best part? It was a 'pay what you wish' day... although it rather annoyed Mikayla to see people dropping the absolute minimum in the box and walking in when they were visibly people who could afford the pricier tickets. She paid a decidedly unspecified amount, though it sure made the lady behind the desk perk up after seeing it, giving them a very bright smile as she handed them their tickets.

Mikayla returned the smile, and dipped her head respectfully, then walked further into the museum. Just right there it already started showing off... not only with the grand architecture of the old building itself, but with the two statues that 'guarded' the inner doors - large nude figures of women that seemed to hug the side of the door, looking bashfully out. Had their skin been flesh, a delicate blush might have touched their cheeks. They weren't the anorexically thin ladies that were considered beautiful today... they were the meatier healthier women, ones that would have been comfortably squishy to hold. The proportions were nearly perfect, as well.

"Oh I like this place already..."

She chuckled, then passed through the doors, and they entered another world entirely.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve can't help the light laughter that escapes him after her reaction. "A heart attack? No way was that my intention." He does like her this way. In fact, he's liked her in so many ways recently. He straightens out his shirt after that action scene up there and gets ready to go to the nearest art museum. Once they start walking, he follows and starts to think random thoughts again. One of those random thoughts is how a woman like Mikayla can actually be out with a man as awkward as he thinks he is. Had she put on that dress in 1940s New York, she would have turned the heads of all his comrades and he would be lost for words when in fact he would want to invite her to every place he knew about. Not that she didn't turn heads here. It would just be a different atmosphere and way of feeling.

Once they arrive at the museum and Mikayla pays, Steve can't help but shake his head. He would have to get used to this, wouldn't he? He gives a small and polite nod to the woman at the desk. Then he notices the immediate architecture in front of him. It's absolutely gorgeous. From the walls to the structure of the ceiling and the linings. One would never think that Steve would appreciate the smallest details like that but he does, especially since he hasn't seen anything like this before.

When he sets his eyes on the female sculptures, he stares at their beauty. Art is absolute beauty and Steve starts to understand that as he walks through here. For a moment, he even loses himself, barely hearing Mikayla's words. The other sculptures that come into view are only of things he's seen in a few books. This place is going to be very intriguing to him. To think that he suggested to visit every museum.

How can a day's supply of hours actually grant them that sort of luxury?

Mikayla watched him, smiling, walking by his side and listening to the rather loud click of her heels on the polished stone floor. Her eyes also wandered, catching pieces of art here and there, instantly memorizing them for later enjoyment. "We would need a whole week to carry out your date plan, Steve." She giggled softly... especially because that was just about as long as they'd need if they spent every minute of every day in the museum atmosphere. That wasn't even counting the wine tastings and spa and their picnic dinner...

She pulled her phone out, and checked the map. If they gave this place a few hours, then headed out the other entrance, there was an artifact museum about a ten minute walk away... it was small, though, the whole thing would take up about an hour of time most likely. There was a winery next to that... After that she would consult Steve. She wanted to see those artifacts, though... when you were over six centuries in age history had a much bigger importance to you.

That specific museum held a copy of the Statue of David, the original Statue of David by Donatello, then statue after statue of cherubs and angels and both men and women posing... But it was the Statue of David that caught Mikayla's eye. Why? The kid looked younger than her, /especially/ with that hat on. She was tempted to have Steve continue and look around so she could look at it more... But the place wasn't entirely empty and though he had a very distinct smell, it was quickly mixed with and masked by other people. It was truly annoying. So she committed the statue to memory, and walked with him, looking at older bas reliefs and paintings that had been done around the same time period.

"There's a small museum about ten minutes east of here... Artifact-based." She looked at him as he looked at the pieces. "Wanna head there once we're done here?"

She was surprised with herself. She'd never given a second glance to all the art and things at home... But here she couldn't keep her eyes off something, that 'something' changing every few minutes. She got the brief idea to donate all her priceless things to a museum, to make sure they'd be safe... But then she realized how empty her lower floors would look.

Steve's eyes move toward one of the very famous statues and when he hears Mikayla's voice, he chuckles and looks at her for a moment. "You're right. I didn't realize that. I never thought a museum would be this huge."

From what he can tell, most likely they'll have time for one other art museum, wine-tasting, the spa if she wanted to go, another museum of sorts, and whatever else the spontaneity of nighttime presented for them. Not that Steve minds. Either way, he knows he'll enjoy this outing, which he's glad she agreed to. He looks at angel statue after angel statue and smiles a bit. It's almost like the angels are speaking out to him. He knows how crazy that might sound.

Steve glances at Mikayla again. An artifact museum. Why not? He's not picky. Besides, an artifact museum sounds very interesting. It might even be intriguing for her who's probably witnessed these artifacts at their birth. "Yeah, I would," he answers her, subconsciously setting his hand on the small of her back for a moment. He can't say why he does it because he barely realizes that he does. It's indeed a sign of affection, that's for sure.

Steve smiles again and takes a step past her. He moves toward a religious relief that seems to be of the Virgin Mary. He looks at it for a moment and then glances around at the other works offered to him. He spends the next couple of moments, learning what he can from what he sees. There are informational words around but he can't read them. Not a problem. Seeing and appreciating this work is more than enough for him.

Mikayla tensed for a moment when his hand went to the small of her back. Her head started to tilt down when she stopped herself. She wouldn't be able to see it... and though it was brief, she didn't want it to end sooner, which is what she figured would happen if she looked. She liked it... but at the same time didn't. Once his hand left she still felt it... and she knew that once he was gone, she'd be feeling his phantom presence for so long. She just didn't hope it got to the point of her going insane.

"I've seen bigger... Well, I haven't actually been to it, but I've taken a virtual tour of it... the Smithsonian, in America? It's /huge/. You would probably need a month to see everything just on that specific site..." She cleared her throat, just then realizing that he /might/ have already known that, originating from America.

As he looked at the art, she sighed and chuckled, realizing that everything about the pieces was in Italian. There were a few informational plaques in American, but they were few and far between. She put a hand gently on his arm, smiling softly. "Steve, would you like a translator so you can read about the pieces?"

Her phone was capable, and being Italian, she wouldn't need it. She looked at him, then back up a little, letting her fingers drag until she wasn't touching him anywhere, at which point she folded one arm across her stomach and rested her elbow in the hand, scrutinizing him. She then smirked, and pulled her phone out, snapping a picture of him. She looked at it, and chuckled. "I say we go to the curator and have them buy this... This is a masterpiece."

While Steve looks at the art and hears what she says, he turns to look at her. Of course he knows of the Smithsonian. He's always wanted to see it but never gotten the chance. Rumors have it that pieces of his memorabilia are located there out of patriotism. He might have heard that on one of his earlier days when he woke up here. Of course it's hard for him to believe but that doesn't mean it's unlikely. It would produce the greatest form of nostalgia if a Captain America item was preserved in such an institution.

Steve smiles at her and is about to say that maybe they can go together one day but he keeps that comment to himself for a purpose. He turns away to stare at the reliefs again when she makes the offer for a translator. Feeling her hand on his arm, he can't help but place his focus on her again. "Maybe you can read it to me?" He chuckles a little.

When her fingers drag along his arm the way they do, Steve suddenly felt the urge to step over and take her into his arms for an affectionate embrace. Had they been alone, he might have done so since her action touched him, although it wasn't probably her intention. He has the urge to take her hand and walk from relief to relief so that she can translate but he holds back. . .for now. Before he can even say anything, she pulls her phone out. He has no idea that she's taken a picture because he isn't aware that the phone can do such a thing.

"Wait. What?" Steve starts to step toward her. "Buy what?" He thinks that she means the phone, which is why he's curious to have a closer look at it.

Mikayla giggled, and turned the phone around in her hands, showing him the picture she took as she closed the distance between them. "The picture, silly." It was just him from the chest up. But being taken from a phone, it wasn't really all that bad. Especially after she took the color from it. She started to make it sepia, then stopped and left it black and white.

"Oh, you'd like me to translate for you?" She looked at him, and smiled, her hand finding a few of his fingers again. "It'd be my pleasure. What would you like translated first, Mr. America?" She looked at the pieces in front of them, glancing at the multiple plaques. None of them were very long, with just a brief statement about when, where, and how that piece was created or found, and by whom. It wasn't until the larger, more 'important' pieces that the descriptions grew longer, adding a big chunk on /why/ it was created and how it was used.

Mikayla's thumb was subconsciously rubbing the back of his hand as she read, stumbling over a few words. Fluent in Italian, and relatively fluent in American, but having a little bit of trouble with the translation process. However, when her thumb was moving across his flesh, she hardly had any problems at all. Her other fingers were wrapped around his left ring and pinkie. She could maybe hold another finger - she had very small hands - but two was most comfortable.

It was at this point that they were getting looks. Very not-good looks. There was a group of men a room over, staring at Mikayla through the passageway with a very... nasty feel to it. The looks they threw at Steve weren't all that pretty either but they weren't the same. These men were all scrawny, pale, with greasy slicked back hair a white-trash facial hair of some sort, and they all had disgusting smiles, which were shown when Mikayla's curiosity finally drew her gaze to them. She scoffed and gagged softly, looking away, and that's when things changed. The looks changed from nasty to /nasty/. As did their attitudes. They started to approach them - at which point Mikayla hid herself further behind her 'shield' - but a few guards stopped them and escorted them outside, after their possession of weapons and cigarettes became very evident.

Steve stares at the picture. He becomes more and more fascinated with the phone as time passes. He looks at himself and smiles a bit. "I don't know how much the curator would want that." He chuckles.

Afterward, Steve looks back at the paintings and feels her hand taking his fingers. He smiles at the action and slightly bends his fingers so that they can take a small hold of her hand. He listens to history after history and finds himself much calmer than usual as her thumb moves along the back of his hand. He's fascinated with everything that he hears and takes no notice that they're being watched with very unwelcoming eyes.

Steve studies each relief closely as he hears about it and asks questions here and there. Then he shortly hears Mikayla scoff. He turns to look at her but then sees the very pale and threatening-looking men. He stands on guard, ready to act if the two of them are threatened.

Who are they? Why are they watching them like that? Steve doesn't have time to think about those questions because the men start to advance. As soon as Mikayla hides behind him, he holds out an arm behind him so that he can keep her there. Whatever these men want, Steve is ready to participate in a stand off. He doesn't want it to escalate to violence though. He very much despises that.

Once the men are escorted outside, Steve has this strange feeling that they're going to stay in the vicinity. He turns around to face Mikayla. "Who were they? Did you know them?" If they're not human, surely she can pick up on their scent, right?

Steve definitely doesn't have a good feeling about this. Even if the men are gone, he's going to proceed through Florence with caution now.

Mikayla once again had a grip on him, but it was on his whole hand this time, and considerably tighter, though not painfully so. She looked up at him when he turned around, then shook her head. "I have no idea... I don't think so, anyway... I..."

She sighed, thinking, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I... might have known one of them... His face looked relatively familiar... I think he was one of the few guys I turned down while working. But he..." She sniffed the air, then her eyes flashed and she suddenly didn't look so nice either. "That was a group of vampires. One of the worst kinds... they establish a nest in a town that's already taken, then eliminate the original 'monster'... They either thought I was a 'resident' of Florence... or they've already settled in Massa and I'll have to go take care of them."

She smiled slightly, and squeezed his hand gently, then went as far as lacing their fingers together. "Forget them. The humans can take care of them for now. They might be some of the vilest creatures on earth but they're not /stupid/. To show themselves is to show our world. Humans would start looking, and they'd start seeing. And then we'd all end up gone... Hunted, enslaved, exhibited..." She spoke of that as if she'd experienced some of it. It was probably, considering the amount of years she'd lived, and she hadn't told him everything she'd done... she'd hardly told him anything, really.

"Let's just continue as if that didn't happen. If they're in Massa, I'll deal with them once you're g-... Once you're safe." She couldn't bring herself to say 'gone'. It was too final of a word. And while she didn't ever expect to see him again once he left... she still didn't want to think about it. She cleared her throat, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze again... then again started to stroke his hand with her thumb - though now it was more the side of it and a finger -, rereading the plaque they'd been at as he admired and questioned, then moving on to the next.

When they got to a section that had no plaques to read, Mikayla started humming softly, whispering the words. 'When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears... When you screamed I'd fight away all of your fears... I held your hand through all of these years... and you sti-ill ha-ave... all of me.'

Mikayla cleared her throat afterward, strained for holding such a pretty tune solid for so long. Her thumb didn't stop moving across his skin, her skin having gained some warmth from the constant friction. She stopped humming as though she wasn't ever aware that she'd started, and her Arctic Ocean blues stayed on the pieces.

Feeling the grip on his hand, Steve expects to hear the worst from her. When she responds though, he at first starts to think that maybe he overreacted. But then she continues. One of the few guys turned down while working. . . Of course he doesn't like hearing about that but he makes no reaction to it. He's more concerned about -

Steve stares at her when her countenance changes. She looks dangerous and he wants to say something in reaction but he also wants to hear about those men. . .who he knew were vampires. He had the feeling upon seeing them. "Then we might see them again," he manages to comment inbetween her words. He looks away for a moment. He knows that the subject of these men will be in the back of his head for a while.

Then Mikayla laces their fingers together. The action catches Steve's attention who looks at her again. What she says causes him to calm down a little bit and worry less. However, he considers the fact that the vampires might wait until nighttime to try and attack again away from human eyes. Having faced many dangers in the 40s, Steve can't help but think like a tactical man. He doesn't express these thoughts because the woman beside him distracts him in a good way. She erases the dark thoughts on his mind, which he hopes won't rebirth anytime soon.

As the time goes on, Steve feels like he's received handful after handful of knowledge of the artwork. His eyes move over the place's architecture again as Mikayla starts to hum. He glances over at her as the whispered words leave her lips. Walking like this with her causes him to think about the moment when he'll leave her. . .probably alone with those men. The words she whispers somehow reach through to him and affect him in a manner he can't explain.

When she mentions the fact that she'll deal with them, Steve wants to tell her no. Just imagining her dealing with those vampires alone unsettles him. He's sure that she can hold her own but he wouldn't want to leave her alone either. He briefly thinks about that as she reads the next plaque to him. He gently squeezes her hand in reutnr as he tries to focus on what she's saying. No. . .stop thinking about those vampires, Steve. No ruining the day.

Steve ignores the fact that there aren't any plaques to read. He just comes to a slow stop so that he can look at her. "Mikayla. . ." he says softly. "That was beautiful." Maybe the comment is out of place. Maybe it isn't. But he means it. The song, the words. . .they're profound to him. He glances down at her with sincerity and almost forgets that he's standing in the middle of a museum with her. He catches himself and chuckles a little.

". . .and thanks for reading all of that to me. . ."

Way to change the moment, Steve.

Mikayla felt a blush tinge her cheeks, and she opened her mouth to reply, but a laugh jumped out instead. "You're quite welcome. It was my pleasure."

Her smile showed that she was very much enjoying his company, but her searching eyes betrayed that she was expecting those vampires to jump out any second, armed with 'vampire hunting' weapons, thinking she was but another vampire. She was keeping track of them even then... one possessed the ability of Glamour, and had smooth-talked their way out of confinement. She knew they'd bump into them again before they left Florence, so she began planning, figuring out how she would protect Steve, herself, and the cities all at the same time.

Partial solution: not trying to protect herself. No matter the damage dealt, she could recover. Even if she didn't, if it was too severe, and she died there in front of him... she would wake back up in a matter of hours to a few days.

But how to keep him safe? She knew he'd try to help, and most likely get killed, which she wouldn't have... no dying on the first date. And it wasn't as if she'd be able to turn him to save him. 'He'd hate me,' she thought to herself, staring absently at the relief in front of them.

'I could push him into the shadows...' And pray that none of those vampires were Shadow Walkers like herself, or he'd be a sitting duck. And since they didn't cast shadows, he wouldn't be able to help that way... He'd be safe.

And be forced to watch helplessly as she turned into a true monster and very possibly die.

'Don't think about that...'

"Come on, we've still a whole floor above us to look at before we leave. And undoubtedly more plaques to read to you," said Mikayla as they reached the least piece of that floor, and the doors leading to the stairs.

If she ended up 'absent' for the next few days, she wanted to make sure every moment then with him counted, and maybe brief him so he wouldn't prematurely depart...

The confrontation was confirmed through a temporary sickening joining of minds... but she wasn't going to think of that. She was going to think about the face that was but a foot away, the hand in hers, and of the rest of the date ahead of them that would most likely go unbothered.

Steve can tell that her mind is elsewhere. He has this feeling gnawing inside of him, making him aware of the fact that everything isn't so wonderful and amazing as he would have hoped it to be. He doesn't want to pay attention to this feeling but it's difficult not to do so with all of this strange energy building all around them. His focus wants to be on the date but the mind of Captain America says that keeping an eye or awareness on the dangers is the priority.

. . .as is Mikayla's safety.

Although she might have told him that she's come back from death so many times, there must be some kind of penalty or toll that death takes. For all of that energy that death wastes on someone who just comes back... well, he doesn't want to think of it. He doesn't want to imagine her lifeless form in his arms. With all the lack of luck he's been having, the next time would be a permanent death for her. No. . .not her. He can't think about that. Just the thought of it causes the largest weight upon his heart. It's almost like the effects of losing Peggy and his comrades all over again.

Steve never imagined that he would become this attached to Mikayla in such a short amount of time. Many things about her have drawn him in. Even with the thoughts of his past on his mind, somehow spending time with her has caused him to become more at peace with his predicament. That's a power that he never thought someone could possess so soon.

With a small shake of his head, Steve lets those thoughts go. He nods at Mikayla's words and smiles a little bit. He walks with her up the stairs, never releasing her hand. He keeps them interlaced, enjoying the warmth of her skin against his. He looks at the artwork on the second floor and is wowed yet again. Hearing about the history of this artwork causes him to relinquish thoughts on those dangers. . .

. . .for now.

**Mikayla was glad he didn't let go of her. Frankly, at that point, she was so scared for him that she wouldn't've let him let go. After a little bit, she rested her head against his arm, but only for a moment. Then she lifted it again. But her head found his arm every time they reached a lengthy amount of words. As the time slowly dragged by, and the reliefs, sculptures, paintings, and everything all seemed to blur together, her eyelids drooped further each time her head rested. You couldn't blame her, and she wasn't trying to be rude... but it wasn't as if she'd had the greatest night's sleep the night before.**

Finally, she caught herself when her head rolled off his arm, and she slapped herself, blinking. "Okay, I'm awake..." She looked down, rubbing her face for a few seconds. "Sorry..."

They were nearing the end. Of the museum, that is. Once they were out, the cool Autumn air filling the city and their lungs seemed to chipper her up, and she led him toward the artifact museum. On the way they passed a small cafe, and Mikayla led them in for some coffee. She /needed/ it if she was to stay awake long enough to enjoy the full date with Steve.

The museum was smaller - much smaller, maybe the size of half a floor of the previous building. And only one story. It was a fixed price as well, but she had no trouble paying. /Still/ their fingers were locked. If she had her way they'd probably remain that way until it came to having to climb the walls again, to get to their designated picnic spot. Thinking of that made her wonder what they'd choose for dinner, completely missing the first few artifacts they passed. All the information was in Italian above and American below, so she didn't have to read for him. But it became obvious she wasn't all too interested... all of the artifacts were dated from the 1400s up. She'd seen them when they were first there. She'd /used/ items like those artifacts before, and even had some of the utensils and devices in her kitchen and the hall in front of it.

"I was hoping they'd have things from when the town was first built... or at the very least before I was born... all of this is after my birth..."

She sighed, then squeezed his fingers gently. At least it was more time with Steve. That night kept popping up in her mind, but she banished it each time by picturing his face, either mentally or actually looking up at him. She attempted to imagine what his face would look like showing pain... but it hurt her too much, and she just couldn't do it... So how would she be able to stand it later?

"Promise me that... once you leave, you'll stay as safe as you can?"

As they walk from artwork to artwork, Steve can hear Mikayla's voice fading out. It's the reason why he glances over at her a few times. He doesn't say anything yet. One reason is because the pieces are so distracting and he thinks about the time period in which they were made. He even imagines living in such a time period and pictures Mikayla physically being there. It's so strange to imagine that the one beside him was alive during the time that these works were completed. She's lived throughout the history that she's reading to him. If he had met her then, how would things have been? Logically, he wouldn't have been Captain America but in this scenario, he imagines himself to be. Would he have eventually disappeared on her like so many have? When would he have died?

Now that Steve thinks about it. . .he doesn't really know about his longevity. Everything about him is supposed to be perfect. Does that also mean that his life is much longer than a regular human's? Dr. Erskine had hinted that out. From those hints, the Captain gathers that he can live far longer than regular people. . .

These straying thoughts shatter once Steve feels Mikayla's head falling on him. He immediately turns to her to see what's wrong but notices, to his relief, that she's only tired. Her tiredness is minimal compared to what he originally thought. He makes sure that she's awake for the rest of the tour. In fact, he even makes the comment that she doesn't have to keep reading. He partially feels guilty now because she had been reading so much to him. Her well-being is apparently more important to him than the knowledge of all this beautiful art.

Once they're outside, Steve glances around subtly to make sure that no one suspicious is around. He definitely hasn't forgotten about the dangers. When all is clear, he too gets some coffee only because he's in the mood for its taste. Then it's off to the artifact museum, which he looks forward to.

Steve's relieved when he sees the American translations. He reads about all the different items here and again starts to think about the era they're from. Seeing that he's slept through seven decades, time has become much more interesting to him. When Mikayla speaks again, he looks toward her. He manages to smile a little. "I know different parts of Italy have a lot of things before your birth. . ." He wants to say that he can't imagine living such a long life but he holds the comment in. It might be a touchy subject.

Then Steve feels her squeeze his fingers. He has a strong feeling that they're both physically here but their minds have been elsewhere for a good majority of the date. The thought isn't the most attractive one but it's also kind of inevitable, considering past and current events. He glances down at her gently, looking at her unnatural eyes that have become much lovelier to him. He feels that she's going to tell him something. Whether it's good or bad, he isn't sure. When she does speak though, he feels his chest tense for some reason.

It's almost like a foreboding sensation. . .

"I. . .I want to promise you that, Mikayla, but my concern is more for the safety of others." Steve pauses, trying to word his next sentence in his mind. "I can't leave knowing that something might be out to attack you. I'm sure that you can fend for yourself but what kind of man would I be if I left and just –hoped- that you took care of all the dangers? I have to know that you're here. . .and okay."

Mikayla chuckled softly. "Oh, I know. Massa's older than me. She was built in 1225... a century and a half before me, pretty much. A little more. I was just wishing /this/ place had some older things... I've used many of these things... I've my personal pieces at home still."

She watched him after she asked her question, her throat tight. But when she heard that word, that 'want'... her eyes dulled considerably. She smiled slightly, and sighed, swinging their arms slightly. "Something might be out to attack me every day, Steve," she said softly, staring at an old blade. She remembered the person that used it. "If it's not a human with a stake and a clove of garlic it's some other supernatural entity. Or it's a wild animal... But that's why I didn't ask you to stay safe. I said as safe as you can... Risk and... no, that's not allowed but risk is allowed if called for..."

She sighed. She /wanted/ to say "After tonight you won't have to worry about those vampires" but she knew that would be an /instant/ date-killer. She didn't want Steve to know her plan... Lord knew what he'd do if he did. Disagree, heartily, she was sure of it. Maybe get a little irked as she got more and more stubborn. But she didn't want to think of that... so she took a sip of her coffee, the aroma and the heat melting those not-so-pretty thoughts. She rubbed his hand with her thumb gently... then lifted their hands and kissed a finger. She wanted his cheek, or temple or forehead, but being so much taller than she, his finger would suffice... and it helped make it not so big a thing. After the kiss she looked at the differences of their skins and builds. His fingers were easily fifty percent thicker and perhaps seventy-five percent longer. His skin was many shades of pink and brown and cream mixed together - normal human tones - and hers was the palest grey-white, like white marble or alabaster, but not quite porcelain. She considered her skin too flawed to be called porcelain. She only had three scars on it, but that was enough. And he was so much warmer than her...

If she got cold in the next few days... customs or not, she was crawling in and cuddling with this man.

So instead, she said, "You'll be... You're free to leave whenever you wish, Steve. You don't have to worry about me... I'm in no more danger than any other resident of Massa Marittima." She let out a chuckle, one more genuine than false but not completely true. "If you can't leave knowing I might get attacked you'd /never/ be able to leave, Steve..."

Steve takes notice of her reaction and expects to be "reprimanded" in some way because of how he responded. Yes, there are times when he's stubborn. Usually those times concern when he cares about the safety of others. It's always been that way, even when he was smaller. If he didn't care about such a thing, he would still be in the 40s, surrounded by familiar people but probably in a more devastated world since a great number of Americans would have died.

Steve barely realizes that she's swinging their arms because her next words cause him to tense. Something might attack her everyday? It's not something he likes to hear but he knows that she speaks the truth. He ignores the old blade in front of them and thinks about how she's right in what she's saying. She's a creature that almost everyone hunts. Should that be a fact that he accepts or. . .?

These are thoughts that Steve hates. They remind him of the talk in the kitchen. He knows that he can't see only the nice side of his moments with her but do these thoughts bother him because her other side is too dark for him? No, that can't be it. He can't be blinding himself to all of that. He knows that being beside her is a risk and being away from her is the same thing. Whether he likes it or not, it's the truth.

Another choice will have to be made sooner or later.

When she kisses his finger, Steve glances down at her, seeing her study their hands. He doesn't say anything for the next few moments. As a matter of fact, he almost forgets where they're standing. His eyes move toward their hands afterward and it's as though it's the first time he notices how cold her hand is. How strange that is since he believed it was warmer before. Can reality be using its harsh methods of making him realize something he doesn't want to think on?

As usual, Mikayla's words distract him. Steve glances back at her. He nods, understanding her but that doesn't mean he agrees. He takes another few moments before he says anything else at all.

"Everyone leaves though, don't they?" Steve says with a small chuckle in spite of himself. He doesn't expand on that question though. He looks away for a moment. Then he places on a mysterious smile as if a sneaky thought just came to him. He looks back at her. "Why don't we try that wine? If I want to look at artifacts, I'll walk around your home a little more."


	7. A Taste for Wine and Pasta

Mikayla's face went blank at his question, then she looked away, shoving a false smile out. "Yeah... everyone leaves..."

But she recovered just as quickly as she'd fallen, hearing the suggestion and arching a brow. "Alright, that sounds fun... And if you want to look at an artifact you can just look at the tiny person at your left."

She pulled her phone out, and searched the nearest wine tasting 'party', then led them there, rather glad to get out of that little room. Perhaps more air and a few good wines would help her keep awake for him, now that her coffee was gone. She paid the tiny fee that was required once they got there, taking her glass, pencil, and notepad, then stepped inside and waited for Steve, her hand feeling colder than normal now that he wasn't holding it. She looked around, then took a deep breath, and sighed, somewhat happily. The air smelled nice there. Like fruits and trees and spices and earth... it reminded her of home, of the small patch of land right outside the kitchen window. She used to hide there as a child, when upset...

She'd been to wine tastings before. Being of the wealthier families, it was 'necessary' to mingle with the 'common folk' in some way, so her family hosted and attended numerous wine tastings. She'd tasted her first drop of wine at eight years of age. But that was back in the time when mothers would soak a rag in wine and give it to their teething infants to shut them up. But it had been so long, it took her quite a few minutes to remember the 'proper' order in which to taste... if you were smart and wanted to truly taste everything, that is.

In the building they were in, there were twenty booths - ten on each side of the building. The middle of the floor was clear for the participants to walk around, mingle, chat, or just really taste the wine by themselves. Mikayla smiled, looking at Steve. "Which table would you like to start at, hm?"

She ran over the order of tastes in her head. She didn't really care how he went about tasting, but from what she remembered a champagne, or light sparkling wine, was the best because they weren't heavy, rich, or sweet enough to overpower the taste of the next sample. And since the samples were tiny, strong wines easily covered the tastes of several lighter samples in a row.

Steve chuckles at her artifact comment. He in fact does look at her after she says that. He tries his best not to think too much on the vampires or anything else negative at this point. He can reserve those thoughts for later. For now, he waits until she finds a place on her phone. That's actually a device he's getting used to now, although he hasn't directly used it.

Steve finishes his own coffee before they head out. Regardless of what Mikayla tells him, he still feels horrible that she's paying for everything. That's a habit that won't leave him any time soon. For now, it's fine though since he does have something planned later. He has yet to tell her how else she can spend her money. That's because he's saving his answer for a particular moment.

Once Steve has his glass and other items, he meets with Mikayla and gently sets a hand to her back. He's been doing that subconsciously now, behaving like the 40s man that he is. Only thing is that a man of that era would behave that way toward a woman if they were together or related. Dating was also an exception.

The aroma pleases Steve greatly. He glances around as this is his first time trying wine too. He knows next to nothing about this, so he pays as much attention as he can. It's also helpful to follow and watch Mikayla. When she asks her question, he pauses. He has no idea which table he would like to go to first. He scans and searches for what would interest him most at this point.

"Whatever is simplest first," Steve answers. "So that we can make our way to the richer tastes." To him, it makes the most sense. Captain America going wine-tasting. Now who would have ever thought?

Mikayla managed not to tense when he set his hand on her back. She was just /not/ used to casual contact, not even then... And she probably never would be. Rather unfortunate, but it was the truth. She let her brows raise. "Well someone's smart." She chuckled softly. "Each table is a different winemaker. Each winemaker has their arrays of wines from light to heavy. The /best/ idea is to go from table to table, trying each 'level' of wine at a separate time..."

She paused, thinking about that. Twenty tables, and each had between five to seven different 24.5 ounce bottles of wine for tasting, with restocks behind them. If they tried every single one, and decided to swallow every single sample, that would be anywhere between one hundred and one hundred and forty ounces of wine. "Well... it's a good thing we can't get drunk, isn't it?"

She sighed, then made her way to the first table on the west wall, asking the pourer for a sample of their champagne. This was going to be a long occasion for someone whose preferred alcohol was... well, nothing. She didn't much like it since it couldn't do anything for her. But she'd drink it anyway, so she slowly made her way through the tables with Steve, briefing him on the basics on how to properly test the wine: to look, to smell, and to finally taste it.

She noticed most of the people were 'spitting'. At wine tastings, not considered rude, but a prevention of getting drunk. These were normal people after all... except a small group of people that just didn't feel right. It wasn't the vampires but they definitely weren't human... or, at least, not normal. She didn't spit though. Not being able to get drunk was a great bonus at these things, and most of the wines weren't half bad. She did point out to one pourer than their bottle wasn't /quite/ ready, and another had some severe problems with cork bits floating in it... But out of twenty tables and the third time around, that wasn't too bad.

She looked at Steve when they finally, /finally/ reached the last taste, which only a few tables provided: sweet dessert wines. "I have decided I won't be having any more wine for quite some time..."

She giggled softly, getting her first sample of a sherry that, to her and her heightened sense of smell, smelled absolutely divine. And it was clear and perfectly colored when she looked at it... and tasted wonderful. So after her sample, and approached the other about purchasing a bottle or two of that particular kind, paying upfront cash and requesting that they hold the bottles as she resumed with the other seven offered dessert wines. But she came back to that table for another sample - most of the people were gone by that time and there was still plenty left - and for her purchase.

Steve listens to her explanation and nods. Then he looks around. Well. . .that's just a lot of wine to try. It's not that he has a problem with it. He knows it'll take a very long time. He just hopes that he'll become an expert on wine after they're finished. That would actually be very nice if that happened. Either that or he won't be able to distinguish one from the other. Only one way to find out.

Steve chuckles at what she says. "Yeah. . .I guess that has its benefits." Although, he'll have to admit that recently he's wished that he was able to get drunk, considering his seven-decade sleep and all. Now though things have lightened up a bit. Sure, there still exist dark moments but they keep being washed away by something else that he does with Mikayla.

Steve follows her. In fact, he follows her the entire time. He pays attention to how to properly taste the wine. He tries to keep up and makes an attempt when tasting all the different wines. He doesn't notice the nonhuman people because he's so into the event. He even asks questions to some of the pourers. He asks about the histories of a few of them. He gets more into this than he ever thought he would.

Steve also swallows all of the wine, realizing afterward that some people spit it out. He laughs a little at that and shakes his head. Then he responds to Mikaya's later statement. "Me either. I think this was an overload, though some of them were very good." He proceeds to trying that sherry that she enjoyed so much. Then he smiles as he watches her go ask for it. While she does that, he tries the dessert wines himself.

As he does that, Steve notices that he's watched her a lot, despite the fact that they were supposed to be focused on what's around them. It might sound strange but every time he's looked at her, he's noticed something different. It's almost as though a different story is told about her just based on her actions, facial expressions, and manuevers alone. He doesn't want to think on it too much because he doesn't want her to catch him staring, so he tries another dessert wine and compliments it out loud.

It's at that moment when he realizes that most of the people are gone. "Wow. . .one of the last ones left," Steve comments with a small chuckle. He wonders if the pourers noticed that the only two non-spitters are not even showing signs of tipsiness. What a strange thing that would be.

Mikayla approached with a cloth bag holding three bottles of the sherry. "I think it'll be another year or two before I go to another wine tasting party..." Thinking about that reminded her that next time she'd be alone. But she pushed those thoughts away, determined to have only happy thoughts for the few hours remaining in the date.

"Shall we go to dinner, then?" It was about seven then. The museums and then the wine tasting took up a huge chunk of time. She honestly didn't feel like she could put anything else in her stomach, but something solid sounded nice. Plus, she wanted to see the view from the top of that bridge during sunset, and at dark, when the city's lights lit up. "Come on, let's go back to the hotel... I need to put the sherry away."

She pulled her cell out, and figured out how to get back to the hotel, then led the way. Upon arrival to her room, she put the bottles away - save one - then paused, thinking about changing her outfit. She knew Steve liked that dress, so she didn't want to get it ripped and stained with blood... but she didn't want to explain why she changed back into dirty clothes. So she stayed in the dress, silently apologizing to both it and Steve. She walked back out to meet him. "So what shall we pick up for our picnic dinner?"

Steve takes his last few sips of wine when Mikayla approaches him. He chuckles a little bit. "Yeah, me too. This was fun though. Now I'll feel pretty good when I can identify some of these at restaurants." Is it already time for dinner? Time must have flown by. And here's a man who wanted to do everything that there is to do. He knew that it would have been impossible after visiting that first museum. He almost laughs at himself and then nods. "Sounds like a plan."

Steve thinks about what he's in the mood to eat while they make their way back to the hotel. He also wonders what she thinks about the date so far. He might be a lousy date but he wouldn't be surprised. In his past, he was just so focused on war and defeating the enemy. Then he wakes up seven decades later and there's no world war to stop. He tries to get his life together and later meets Mikayla one night. Never had he expected himself to be on a date with a woman he met by chance that night he was pondering. Maybe it hadn't been chance. . .

Thinking about that, though, causes Steve to believe even further that joining the military is the best thing to do. There are still people out there to help. He can provide a lot of assistance. This might be a good time to tell Mikayla about his idea but he decides to keep it silent for the moment. He'll tell her tomorrow. Yes, that should be best.

Steve thinks all of this while standing outside of his hotel room, waiting for her. He expects her to come out wearing a different outfit. He doesn't know why he expects that but when she returns wearing the same thing, he smiles a little. "Something light," he says. "Surprisingly enough, I'm not as hungry as I should be. If you are, we can get whatever you want." He pauses. "We can do the typical spaghetti, unless you've eaten that so much that you've grown tired of it." He chuckles afterward.

Mikayla chuckled as well, and shrugged. "I actually haven't had that in a few months. That sounds delicious. It's not surprising, Steve, you have over one hundred ounces of wine in your belly." She patted his stomach softly, and started walking. "If you had room for a lot more I'd be a little concerned, actually. What sounds good, normal spaghetti with red sauce? Or is there anything else you like to add in yours?"

She pulled her phone out once more, and looked up the nearest place, called The Spaghetti Shack once translated, which was surprisingly far but happened to be close to the bridge they were going to eat on. She checked to see if it would allow them to 'Take Out', then placed their order. "It /should/ be ready by the time we get there, but we may have to wait a few minutes."

She took the man's hand again as they walked out of the hotel into the pleasant night air, watching as the occasional warm glow of a porchlight appeared, giving the city a truly magical feel. She figured it'd be even more magical from the top of that bridge... where she was hoping a truly not-magical something would happen. Knowing the time was nearing, she walked quickly to The Spaghetti Shack, picking up the tupperware 'pot' the noodles were in and the one that contained the sauce in a bag. She then took them back to the bridge, making a face at the fact that the doors on each side were closed...

"Well... where there's a will, there's a way... and I definitely have the will..."

She held his hand tighter and plunged them both into the Shadows, sliding along the walls until she found that building again, then climbing up, pulling them out once they were on the roof. "And here we are..."

From the shadows, she pulled a picnic setting out - blanket, candles, plates, silverware, the works. Everything. Then she opened the food containers, getting their food ready before she looked out. When she finally did, her eyes were caught on the beauty of the last of the sun on the water, and the warm glow of the lights that didn't interfere with the beautiful starry sky above, for quite a while. "I'm glad we came up here..."

The she started eating, letting her eyes rest on Steve, soaking the sight in until his face was imprinted permanently. She'd experienced amnesia for a year after dying, once... but remembered a few things she'd remembered hard. She didn't want to ever forget Steve... especially since she figured once he was gone he was gone for good.

Steve is glad when she agrees to have spaghetti. He decides to go with the normal spaghetti since he's never had anything added to it before. He actually laughs a little when he sees that phone again. That is probably one of the handiest devices he's ever seen.

When Mikayla takes his hand, Steve instinctively laces their fingers together. The light cast over the city is so magical to him. It's absolutely beautiful out here. He can't believe that a place like this experienced harsh realities in the form of war during his life. He actually images the military tanks, the soldiers, their dogs all moving along the streets. Go to sleep for seventy years and it's all gone. It's still so surreal. Even now, he can't wrap his mind around that. Maybe after he rejoins the military, he'll finally be able to accept all of that.

As the moments pass and Steve sees Mikayla with all the items from the restaurant, he's about to offer to carry some things for her. But then she says something about having a will. He's about to ask what she means but before he can even talk, his surroundings completely change. The shadows again. This is strange yet fascinating to him. Like before, it feels like everything is real but unreal at once. It's almost like being within the negative print of a photo.

Once they're out, Steve catches his breath. "I love how you like to catch me off guard with that thing," he teases. He watches as she pulls the items out from seemingly nowhere. But then his eyes rest on the scene in front of them. The scene is absolutely breathtaking. He actually stares out at it for a good amount of time. The view erases any horrible thoughts that had passed his mind since he woke up. This is the first time he's ever seen a view like this. If only he can witness it everyday.

"I'm glad we did too," Steve answers softly as he continues to relish in the absolute beauty of the city. Because of that, he doesn't notice her looking at him. He looks out a little longer and realizes he almost forgot about the food. He reaches over for a plate. Realizing she served them, he says, "Thanks a lot." He looks at her for a moment and then starts to eat.

"I can't believe the day's almost over already," Steve says with a small chuckle. "Can't say I didn't enjoy it though."


	8. The Scare

Mikayla chuckled, grinning. "Really now. I guess I'm going to have to do it more often." She smirked, and continued eating, enjoying the dinner. She loved spaghetti, but she made sure she didn't get it often so that she wouldn't grow sick of it. She took her time eating it, but kept track of time, and kept her ears out. If she heard the slightest odd sound, and was able to confirm it... well, her main priority then would be getting Steve to safety. Being vampires, they could deal a massive amount of damage to him, possibly even kill him... and he wouldn't be able to do anything back.

After the food was gone, she swept everything 'under the table' and sunk it back into the shadows, letting them disperse. She bit her lip, then sat next to him, placing her hand on his and leaning against him a little bit, still looking out. "It's almost not fair... how beautiful it is right now, as though the world is completely at peace..."

She looked over at him, and smiled. "Blame the museum. I've enjoyed the time with you immensely, though. I haven't had much experience, but I'll label this as the best first date ever."

She got an idea, a perfect way to end this date, and so stood, gently tugging him up with her. She got close, then froze, hearing the slightest 'whoosh!' of wind. She looked down, and sighed, then put a hand on his chest, rubbing his firm flesh gingerly with her thumb. She looked up at his face, and leaned in as if to kiss him... then pushed with her hand. It was a very gentle push, but it still sent him backwards, her falling with him. Instead of landing with a heavy thud on the rooftop, he fell through and into the Shadow Realm once again, floating back up as if in water, the real world acting as transparent ice keeping him in. Mikayla's hands reached in and cupped his face. "Stay safe."

She bent, and kissed his cheek, more on the corner of his lips. She hadn't barely pulled back when a silver point protruded through her gut, a vampire grinning maliciously behind her, producing a pained gasp and a grimace. Three others appeared, all grinning and chuckling, their blood red eyes glinting as they stared at her. They blinked when shadows boiled, then swirled around her, forming a cocoon... then flew backwards when it exploded outward, and Mikayla's 'monster' form was revealed. All of her teeth were sharp and wicked looking, her eyes glowed red. Her nails turned into claws, and large flight appendages had sprouted from her shoulder blades, the 'thumb' tipped with a nasty-looking claw. She snarled as she looked at the recovering vampires, then caught sight of Steve's shadow, and cast him an apologetic glance. Her shadow wrapped its arms around his middle, 'trembling'. It was sitting this fight out with him.

Mikayla reached behind and started trying to pull the silver dagger out. She screeched when one of the vampires blurred over and shoved it back in, all the way. She let out a blood chilling snarl, then sped forward a foot, the silver dagger remaining in the man's hand, blood running freely down her back, front, and legs, and starting to dribble from her lips, outlining her teeth in red. But she paid no notice. Instead, she roared and jumped at the vampire, landing on him, knocking the dagger out of his hands. They scuffled as the others watched in confusion, and rolled around the rooftop, then tumbled over. A sickening crack followed, and silence... then Mikayla shot up past the roof and flung the decapitated body of the vampire at the others. They dodged, and disappeared.

She landed on the rooftop, growling and looking around, wings ready to lift her off the ground. But she wasn't expecting the next attack to be from behind, arms wrapping around her chest and middle and fangs sinking deep into the flesh of her neck, sucking and tearing mercilessly, screams and screeches emanating from her throat as she tried to recover. Finally she tore away from him, then whirled around, her wing's thumb claw slicing halfway through his neck. She kicked him in the face, killing him the rest of the way, then did a near carbon copy of her last move with another vampire that decided to just charge her. He was dispatched quickly.

She panted and growled, bleeding profusely from the neck and abdomen, looking for the last. She happened to cast her gaze down, to check on Steve... and saw the last 'flying' at him, chin split into mandibles, all four fangs extended.

With a final terrifying scream of fury, Mikayla threw herself at the last vampire. She collided and they spun, hacking and slashing and biting. Finally, her wings found purchase in his eyes, and started pulling. He screamed in agony as his face was torn in half, then the halves of his head were torn from his neck with a wet tearing sound and a pop.

For a moment, she just hung there, panting and growling still. Then, after she calmed down and changed back, just panting. She looked at Steve, with sad apologetic eyes, then hesitantly took his wrist and brought them both out.

Then she crawled away, giving him space, actually crying softly, but silently. "I will understand if, now that you've seen the monster I really am, you would like the next available plane ticket to New York... I will give you the money you need for whatever, drive you to the airport, and let you go. And I will understand..."

She was pretty much sobbing at that point. Then she broke down more. "I'm... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I didn't want you to see me like that... I never want anyone to see me as a monster..."

Meanwhile, she was losing blood. Fast. And had lost quite a bit already. A good portion of her dress was soaked with blood. But she still paid no attention to that. Either she didn't feel the gushing warmth or she didn't care. It seemed all she cared about at that point was apologizing to Steve and hiding her face.

Steve enjoys his dinner meal too. What makes this an even greater experience is the fact that he's eating this with a fantastic view in front of him and Mikayla right beside him. He takes a look at her and doesn't even realize that he hasn't thought of Peggy the entire day. Ever since he woke up, the Englishwoman had been on his thoughts. Today marks the first time that that hasn't happened. He wants to tell Mikayla this. He wants to tell her so many things but as usual, he keeps those kinds of thoughts silent.

Little does he know that what's on her mind is so far different from him. . .

Once their food is gone and put away, Steve feels that bit of warmth when she leans against him and sets her hand on his. He listens to what she says and replies, "I agree. This is almost. . .perfect. . ." He whispers that last word and almost starts to speak his mind but she beats him to it. He chuckles a little bit. "Best first date ever?" That flush almost returns to him. "Wow. . .never thought. . . I'm glad, Mikayla." He looks over at her and then stands with her when she tugs him upward. His glance lands in hers and he waits for her to say or do something. He of course doesn't hear the whoosh. He actually doesn't expect anything negative to happen at all, which is a mistake in his behalf. He should have kept alert for those figures from before.

When Mikayla sets her hand on his chest, Steve almost takes her hand and he almost leans forward. It's at this moment when he's finally about to take action and he pauses when she starts to lean instead. For a second, he thinks that they have the same thing on their mind but then she pushes him back. A small look of surprise passes over Steve's face as he falls and submerges into that shadow realm again. What is she doing? Confusion fills his entire expression. To her words, more surprise becomes evident in his eyes. He barely even notices that she's kissed him. "Mikayla, what - ?"

He doesn't get the chance to finish his question. Steve suddenly sees the silver point impale her. "NO!" He uses all his power and might to struggle and try to get out of the realm but he's just unable to. It's like some invisible force is forcing him down, keeping him encased and trapped. It's not like Captain America to feel powerless. He usually finds his way out of tight spot but these shadows seem to be too much, even for him. He doesn't give up though. He calls out Mikayla's name and punches, kicks, does whatever he can. "Mikayla, get me out of here!" No, he can't watch this. He just can't stay here and watch as she's being violently attacked by -

The next thing throws him off completely and temporarily stops his struggles. Steve glances up, wide-eyed as Mikayla's form transforms completely. It takes a lot to faze him but seeing such a beautiful woman become this. . .this -thing-. . .he thinks he's living one of his nightmares. ". . .no," he whispers. His eyes meet hers when she sends him the apologetic glance. He feels his heart weigh so heavily on him. Is this what she had been talking about all along? How can such a sweet woman - the woman he just spent his entire day with - how can she be this? So many thoughts pass through his head and it almost dazes him. He almost decides that she. . .

. . .no. How can Steve think like that? He almost believed that she would have to be stopped too. No, inside that creature is a woman - the woman whose company he's enjoyed. She's the woman who almost made him completely move on from Peggy. But she isn't the same right now. She's. . . The screech brings him back to the reality. She's hurt. Mikayla's hurt and bleeding. Steve tries to clear his head and attempts to break from this realm again. Feeling something trembling close to him, he turns a little. He's momentarily distracted. Is that. . .is that her?

Upon feeling her presence so close to him, Steve starts to clear his head. He has to find some way out of here to help her. He struggles again and yells out as the fight continues. He sees the blood, the attacks, the decapitated body, and a creature heading right toward him. He starts to lift his arms over his head to try and block it but Mikayla grabs the thing just in time. Yes, she's still in there. It really is her underneath that monstrosity. He can't see her like that. He can't see her as the creature that's evident right before his eyes. Seeing all the blood on her causes a great pain to come over him. It's a pain he's experienced only twice his entire life. . .when he's lost those closest to him.

When Mikayla finally pulls him out, it's like Steve leaps forward. "Mikayla!" he shouts out in concern. He starts to walk toward her but then he hears what she tells him. He shakes his head. "No. . .no, that's not important now. You should have. . . You should have -" Feeling anger, pain, and so many mixed emotions, Steve wants to yell at her, reprimand her for not allowing him to help her: for forcing him to stay there helpless while watching her get attacked. It's probably one of the worst experiences he's had to go through.

Steve walks toward her and reaches out. He hesitates at first but instead, he gets over his hesitation and takes her in his arms. "There's only one thing I care about right now." He tries to hold in all the emotions that want to let themselves out. He does want to yell and shout and punch down one of these buildings. Instead though, he starts to carry her away from the rooftop and straight back toward the hotel. She's hurt. She's bleeding. That's one of the million things on his mind right now.

Mikayla struggled a little when he carried her, but the lack of blood was taking its toll and she didn't have all that much strength left. Finally she just went limp against him, sniffling. "I'm getting you all bloody..." As if that was the worst that was happening.

"Steve... stop... Just... put me down... You need... You need to go find someone. I don't care who, I don't even care the age or gender, just... someone that could afford to lose a pint or two of blood..."

If she could get a full two pints from someone, she'd be able to stay alive. She'd most likely fall unconscious, but she'd stop bleeding and her body would heal. Her blood would regenerate astoundingly fast, and she'd be ship-shape by tomorrow afternoon. But she didn't know if Steve would stop, or help her by finding someone that was still out and tricking them to walk over so she could feed and heal and wipe their memories of the whole thing.

That... and she needed fresh blood to heal the poisoned areas. Silver poisoned her, and that dagger was made of it. Through the hole in the dress, under the red of the blood, the skin had started turning black, and the veins closest to the surface as well, beyond the border of the completely black skin. That's what hurt the most, what caused her breathing to be pained, shallow gasps, her head against his chest. "Or get me to the hospital... I could raid the blood stock..."

She looked up at him, her eyes dull but glassy. "I'm... sorry I... trapped you earlier. I just... couldn't stand to see you hurt."

Had he gotten hurt, or killed, that'd be the end for her. She would have done everything to punish herself for not protecting him. She felt the tension in him, and knew what part of it was about. "You can go ahead and yell at me... I know you want to..."

Steve continues his way back to the hotel. He sees it straight ahead and ignores what she says about staining his clothes. That's the least of his problems right now. He feels her weakened form against him and again, he just wants to shout out to the night sky. The images of her other form, the attacks, the blood: all of that whoosh by his head, causing him even more pain if it's possible. His grip tightens on her as he attempts to withhold the whirlwind of emotions spinning through him. Even Captain America can only take so much. . .

As Steve heads toward the back of the hotel, he pauses. He'll have to find a way in without too much attention. The back should be fine. He'll sneak around as best he can. As he does that, he responds, "I'm not going to find anyone. You'll drink from me. I'm not dragging anyone else into this." He gives her a look and just stares at her for a moment. Then he does something that he should have thought of before. He dashes forward and leaps from balcony to balcony while keeping a good grip on her. He has to keep track of his footing so that he doesn't miss a step. He looks around from window to window and takes a moment to identify his. He would have to break it open but that's less of an issue, compared to what's happening right now.

"You should never do that to me again," Steve says after she speaks again. "You think it's easy to stand by and watch you getting hurt? I don't care if. . .if. . ." He's about to say that he doesn't care if she can revive. He still doesn't want to take the chance. But he doesn't finish the thought. He only jumps a few more times until he's at his own window. Standing on the ledge, he's lucky there's enough room for him to balance and smash the window in with his foot. He steps in past the curtain and doesn't bother turning the light on. He goes toward the bed and starts to set Mikayla down.

"If drinking is what you need to get help. . ." Steve quickly untucks his shirt and tears it off his shoulders. He then leans forward so that he's hovering over her. ". . .here." It's probably a huge risk and sacrifice he's making but that's no matter to him. He would rather sacrifice himself than try to bring any other person into this. He also would rather sacrifice himself than see her weakened like this. He makes the decision without a second thought, without worrying what kind of effect it would have on him, if it had any. His body heals quickly. Who knows what can become of this?

With so much feeling coursing through him, repercussions are the furthest things from Steve's mind.

Mikayla swallows hard, weakly holding his shirt as he jumped. It takes a good long moment for what he said to register. "No I'm not," she mumbled... "I told you I wasn't going to feed from you and I mean it... get someone else..."

"I won't have to, Steve... You'll be gone soon so how could I? I know it's not easy, Steven Rogers, why do you think I tried to keep you safe? They would have torn you to shreds... I don't think I could recover from that. But this I can. A broken body is easier to mend than a broken heart."

She blacked out for a few moments, waking again when he set her on the bed, just going limp. She opened her eyes to see the smooth flesh of his neck right in front of her. Her first impulse was to pull him close and sink her fangs in, but she stopped herself... but only for a moment. Then the aroma of his blood hit her, and she was helpless. She put a hand on the back of his head, pulled him down gently, then sank her fangs into his neck before she could do anything to stop herself. It stung as the hollow cones slid through his flesh, but only for a few seconds. Then her venom and saliva's properties took hold. She didn't know how much it worked for him, but it masked the pain behind pleasure as she desperately relieved him of first one pint, then a second.

She wanted to continue. So much, she wanted to get a fill of it. But she pulled away, kissing the wounds, watching them close quickly. She swallowed the last dribble she'd gotten, then released him and wiped her mouth, licking the rest off her hand. Then she looked up at him, and her eyes grew moist. So much for 'I'm never feeding from you'. "I'm sorry..."

Using some of her last reserves of strength, she rolled onto her side, then pushed herself up so she was sitting. She wanted to curl up in the darkness of her room, but she dropped to her knees after a few steps, not strong enough to walk all the way there. So she curled up right there, and started to cry, just muttering the word 'Sorry,' over and over again, grabbing chunks of her blood-matted dark curls and pulling.

Steve shakes his head to her denial. Hearing her snap back at him, he pauses to look at her. It's like they have the same reasons for wanting to do what they did. Her broken heart comment throws him off for a second. But the fact that she blacks out causes him to stop thinking of that. He looks down at her as she awakens on the bed. If she argues with him and doesn't want to take his blood, he'll argue back. He's made his choice. If she can make the decision not to include him in the battle, then he can make the decision to let her drink from him.

"Go. . ." Steve whispers. Just moments later, he moves closer and feels the fangs pierce his flesh. A small gasp escapes him at the feeling. It's a small sting at first but then everything starts to swirl for him. He feels his blood draining and draining but at the same time, he knows that his blood is replenishing. His cells work extremely fast to give him what he needs. He can't be poisoned, can't be diseased. . .so this doesn't affect him as it would a regular human.

Then everything becomes more intoxicating. Steve feels the small amount of pain course through him but at the same time. . .it feels good. Is this supposed to be pleasurable? Had she mentioned that before? Before he can focus more on that, she pulls away and stops. His breathing is slow but very audible. He returns her glance and can feel his body already recovering. He's still in a slight amount of pain but that should be normal.

Steve shakes his head at her apology. He stays on the bed for a moment to try and shake off the aftereffects. He then watches as she drops down to her knees. He stumbles forward but catches himself quickly. He crouches right beside her and lays down so that he can wrap an arm around her. "Shh. . ." He ignores the blood staining both of them. All he can think about is the fact that he helped her get what she wanted. Sure, everything before that was nightmarish but. . .

Steve couldn't just abandon her because of that. He'll have time to think about that later. For now, he leans forward to give the side of her neck a couple kisses. "It's okay," he whispers, holding her still. Sure, that might not have been one hundred percent true but right now - maybe it's because of the blood-feeding - he feels somewhat closer. . .or bonded. . .to her.

Mikayla continued to lay in the fetal position and cry, mostly out of pain as his blood rushed through her raw-feeling veins and arteries, healing the wounds, which felt like they were just being opened even further. After a minute or two of constant crying, she started quieting, and going limp, the shoulder not on the floor drooping. For a few moments, she was awake, long enough to feel the kisses, and hear his words. No, they weren't really true, but at the same time, they were. She was no longer in danger of dying. Those vampires were gone. Of course, she'd have to find their nest when she got home, but it would be empty, so easy and safe to destroy. Steve was okay... and his comforting presence behind her sent her exhausted body into a deep, dreamless, healing sleep.

She awoke the next afternoon, still in the fetal position. She wasn't on the floor anymore, instead in her bed, and what she thought at first was Steve was just some pillows. She sat up, holding her head, groaning when the massive headache made itself known. She felt different... but she knew it was just the blood. Most of it was hers, but there was still about a half pint of his blood flowing in her body, and it knew that... it knew it was different. For now it was tolerating it but she knew it would attack sooner or later. For that, she wanted to be home.

She got up, and stumbled, then steadied. She looked at herself in the mirror, and nearly cried again. That dress was ruined. The blood had dried, one shoulder strap was torn - now revealing a bra cup - and there was a long tear in the back. Feeling a little disheartened - she'd hoped she could save that dress, just for Steve - she slipped out of it, tossing it in the waste bin. She walked into the bathroom, stripped out of her underclothes, and took another shower, quickly getting the blood out of her hair and off her body. She stepped out, feeling so much cleaner, and walked back out into the room, quickly getting dressed. Then she packed what she had, which was really just those three bottles and her phone, which had somehow survived through the chaos. She tapped on the door. "Steve? Get your things together... Our visit to Florence is over, I should think..."

She'd gotten what she'd needed. Wanting to get out of the city as quickly as possible, she told him how to get to the front, then made her way there immediately, strapping the sherries securely in a saddlebag before just laying on Golden Gate, hugging his thick neck. She got them going as soon as Steve was steady in the saddle, pushing the horses into a fast gallop the whole way. She had this feeling that was nagging her, and the closer she got to home, the worse it got.

Upon reaching the back of the house, she could hardly get the gate open fast enough. The horses neighed and moved nervously, bothered by her restlessness. She got them in the stable, turned, and froze. With an inhuman burst of speed that turned her into a blur of color, she sped into the house, the back door open and the window next to it busted. That was never a good sign... but the horrified scream that next shot through the open passage made it even worse.

When she falls asleep, Steve decides to get up and take her to her room. He wants to change her into cleaner clothes but that would be taking it too far. Besides, are there any other clothes for her to wear? He looks over her once to make sure that she's asleep. Then he proceeds to go into his room and shower. He feels a lot worse than he thought. . .

Steve tightly closes his eyes while in the shower. The violent images, the screams, the nightmarish sights: they all flood his head. These images mix with those of his past. Gunfire, explosions, his fallen comrades, Peggy - all of this flashes by so quickly and suddenly that Steve does let out a shout once. Is this supposed to be the life that Captain America leads? Maybe he really doesn't belong here. Perhaps he should go back to America and rejoin the military.

This. . .this is all becoming too much.

Steve soon steps out of the shower, still somewhat feeling the aftereffects of the bite. He places on a pair of pants and collapses on the bed. He's unable to sleep. Not at all. With his arms crossed behind his head, he tries to clear away the horrific images and focus only on what happened tonight. Mikayla is no regular woman. She's not this image that he formed for himself. She's something else. . .and he doesn't know if it's safe for either of them if he stays. How. . .how can he think so cowardly right now? He's unsure and right now, he almost doesn't know what to think.

It's hours later when Steve hears Mikayla's voice out his door. He's already packed his things last night, so there's not much else to do. He places on a simple white t-shirt and heads out with her, barely saying a word. He can't live in this fantasy anymore. He has to face reality and remember that the world isn't a pretty place. For a second though - just a second - he thought he could have his moments of peace at last. But even that had been ruined. Spending time with Mikayla ended up being more chaotic than he would have wanted.

Mounting the horse shortly, Steve follows her out of the city. He doesn't look back. He can't do that. He knows that he shouldn't be thinking so negatively but the Captain has to be realistic. He looks at Mikayla now and then as he rides behind her. Perhaps today will be a good day to leave. He's overstayed his welcome. Before he gets even more attached to her, he should go back home. He might return some day to see how she's doing. She's someone who he can never forget. She'll be the second woman to hold that special place in his memory. At this point, he doesn't think his life is meant to have any happiness with any woman. So the most he can do is make sure that people are safe. Focusing on himself will only cause more problems.

It's why he's Captain America in the first place, right?

When arriving at the house, Steve glanced over and lets out a soft sigh. He parts his lips and prepares to speak at last, to tell her that he's made his decision to leave. But that's when he sees the uneasy between Mikayla and her horse. He furrows an eyebrow and gets off the horse in time to see her suddenly disappear. Then there's a crash. And afterward, a shriek.

Steve feels a surge of unknown pain strike him. He stands there only for a moment and wonders what he should even do. Should he run and finally be done with it? Or should he involve himself in yet another ordeal? He can't run. His instincts are completely against that. He does run but toward the house. He rushes inside and shouts Mikayla's name. He severely hopes that she isn't hurt again. "Please," he says to himself. "Please, please. . ." He doesn't think he'll be able to bear seeing her attacked and bloody again.

When he got inside, the place was a mess, looking like a bull had come through and destroyed every artifact, every piece of work... everything she'd had in the hallway that circled the middle of the house. The doors to the kitchen were bust open, and that was where the scream had come from. Mikayla was standing a foot in the doorway, next to the broken counter, staring in horror at what she saw: the torso of an elderly gent they both knew, the rest hidden from view by the island, his eyes frozen open, a polished wooden stake in his chest.

She very slowly walked over to him, then gingerly lifted his head and collapsed gracefully, resting his head on her lap. She stroked the hair of the man she'd raised as a child, not a single tear falling, and her voice was crisp and calm when she spoke. "There's money on the bed in your room... I told Leonardo to put it there when we left. I knew you would want to leave once we got back."

She stood up, holding the old man bridal style, the stake clattering to the floor. "I'm sorry I pushed you away... But a monster like myself is never supposed to know love, I guess... and you've got your country to return to and protect."

She walked past him, holding Leonardo close to her, tears finally falling. She took him into the middle room, and set him on the couch, getting a new set of clothing for him, cleaning the wound first. She wrapped his body in silk, then pardoned herself, taking Leonardo and a shovel to the courtyard her children were buried in. She was back approximately thirty minutes later, honestly figuring the younger man was gone. She closed the kitchen doors, and locked them, cleaned up the hallways - repairing what could be - then slowly made her way up to her room, staring at the door of his room for a long time before walking through the doors, leaving them open for the first time in her life. She faceplanted her bed, curling up and burying her face in a pillow.

And cried.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve's jaw slightly drops when he sees the mess in the house. He scans over it for a moment before moving forward and seeing Mikayla's form frozen. He walks over and his expression of surprise only increases. He turns away for a moment, feeling a sadness weigh down on him. He had only known Leonardo for so little time and yet his death affects him too. This is absolutely horrendous. . .

. . .and it's what Mikayla has to constantly live through.

When she crouches beside Leonardo's bloody body and speaks, Steve swallows. It takes a lot to shake him but this is getting very close to doing so. He shakes his head as if to answer but he doesn't. Then she speaks again, apologizing and calling herself a monster. What she says next catches him by surprise and he wants to reply to her.

But how? He doesn't understand her, doesn't know what she means.

Steve just stands there as Mikayla leaves. He wants to follow her. He really does but how much more can he get involved in? This is all starting to affect him greatly in just a matter of a few days.

Steve's gaze falls as Mikayla disappears. He doesn't know what he feels anymore. A part of him is telling him that she's pushing him away for a different reason other than wanting to protect him. She probably thinks that it's better if they went their separate ways. He lets out a sigh, the sadness not leaving but only increasing instead. The pain returns and if he had it in him, he probably would have wept.

That just isn't Captain America's style. . .although that might change soon.

Steve looks up the stairs where he stayed before. Then he heads up there and shortly sees all the money on the bed. He sighs again and proceeds to pack the few things he has here. Mikayla is right about one thing. He does have to protect his home country again. It's where he's meant to be. But. . .but. . .

As if shortly sensing her presence much later, Steve exits his room and looks down the hallway. It doesn't take long for him to see her through the opened doors, crying on her bed. He can't leave. Not yet. Not without telling her.

Steve proceeds to step forward and sit on the side of the bed, his hand gently finding her form. "Mikayla. . ." he whispers. ". . .I'm sorry for everything too. Sorry for Leonardo and your home. It all hurts me too. I. . . Besides everything that happened. . ." He swallows. ". . .Mikayla, I care about you. A lot. I have these feelings that I don't understand. I wanted to let you know, wanted to tell you so I can leave without any regrets. . .so that I can give the special woman a goodbye kiss since I never got to do it last night." He pauses and looks away for a moment, unable to believe that he was able to tell her all of that. He whispers the last few words. "Sorry again, Mikayla. . ."

Mikayla stopped crying long enough to hear him. But what she heard only made it hurt worse. She turned to look at him, eyes still brimming with tears. She knew she'd lose him. She knew that one day, she'd lose Leonardo. But she never, ever thought she'd lose them both within the same hour. Her eyes snapped, and hardened even further, seeming an impenetrable fortress. She almost looked like she'd rather eat his face off than let him kiss her. She stood, the emotion and power that flowed through her causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. "Why'd you take me on that date?"

She then held her hand up, looking away. "Never mind, I don't want to know anymore. I should've not gone in the first place. I won't be the one to leave all this in pieces... And you... You will be alone. Alone with all your regrets. Just like me... The only kisses you seem to give are ones of good-bye. Then you never see them again..."

She was hurt, pretty badly. Emotionally, she felt worse than she'd been physically the night before. She walked around the bed, and sat down on it, holding her face in her hands, her shoulders starting to bob again. She didn't want him to go. Still a child, even after six centuries, she'd associated him as her 'safety blanket', especially when he scared the Nightmare away. Scared as she was, surrounded by death as she was... if he come back to visit the people of Massa Marittima would probably just point him to that courtyard, home to seven tombstones instead of the six there already. Or to a completely different woman than the one he'd known that one night. More akin to the monster he'd briefly seen, acting behind a pretty shell.

She wanted to ask him to not go... she didn't want to be alone. That she was scared. Not for her life but for herself, her sanity and her personality. But even then she just continued to cry and grieve and wish she could take everything she'd just said back.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, barely intelligible through the tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that..."

She hugged her knees and rocked, hiding her face.

God was she a mess.

As soon as she looks at him, Steve immediately stands up from the bed. He feels the strangest energy crawl along the back of his neck and down his spine, as though she's about to attack him at any second. Had he said something wrong? If he did, he's ready to apologize to her right now. He stays on guard and then hears her first question.

"I. . .I wanted -" Steve doesn't finish the sentence because she cuts him off. Then her words proceed to lash at him. He feels blow after blow, worse than any physical harm he's received. Her last set of words strike him the strongest: "The only kisses you seem to give are ones of goodbye. Then you never see them again. . ."

Peggy. Now Mikayla. But. . .it wasn't his fault with Peggy. He didn't want that. And Steve doesn't want this but like with Peggy, he thinks it's for the best. He didn't know that. . .that all of this mess would come about. He feels absolutely guilty. If Mikayla had never taken him to Florence, she probably could have saved Leonardo. She would have been here to protect him.

"Mikayla, I. . . I didn't mean. . ." Steve stumbles over his words and then hears her apologize again. He shakes his head. She's right to an extent. He would live with his regrets. But alone? The thought terrifies him. Is Captain America really meant to be alone?

If so. . .then at least he should be able to protect other people.

When she sits on the bed again, Steve takes a chance and moves forward so that he's sitting on the bed too. He looks at her and decides to take action again. He sets his hands on her shoulders, hating to see her cry like this. It truly does hurt him.

"Mikayla. . .tell me right now. Do you want me to leave? I don't. . .I don't understand you. What do you want from me? I just. . . I tried to tell you. . ." Again, stumbling over his words. Steve lowers his hands from her and sighs, looking down and shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I really don't -want- to go. . ."

Mikayla shook her head, not making any extra reaction to him setting his hands on her shoulders. "No I don't want you to go," she whined, her face still in her lap. "I don't want to be alone."

If he left... for the first time in her life, she would be truly alone. For eighty-one years she'd lived with Leonardo. Before that, there were other people that would come at the snap of her fingers. She was sure Marcus would do the same, but he wasn't good with emotions. He'd tell her to 'Grow a spine and forget about him. I forgot about my family and I'm fine.'

Forget Leonardo and Steve? Never... Subconsciously, her hand slid over, and hesitantly her fingers laid over his. She didn't dare go further, not after striking like that. She wasn't in the right... he hadn't done anything and she'd attacked. Thank God it wasn't a physical attack or she'd never be able to live with herself. Words could eventually be forgiven, though.

She managed to make herself settle down enough that she was more comprehensible. "I don't think I'd be able to stand yet another empty spot in my life... not one as big as yours..."

That wasn't supposed to come out. She quieted after that... then, oddly enough, apologized. "I... I'm sorry... I probably shouldn't've said that... not after all that... Not after everything I said..."

She felt like letting the waterworks go again, but kept control. She could cry loud later. For now she simply let a steady stream of saltwater out, but stayed quiet, sniffing, still keeping her face hidden, hugging her knees, her fingers still on his.

When she finally gives Steve her answer, he feels somewhat relieved. He should have thought about the fact that she's alone now. How can he have even thought about leaving? How selfish of him. He only considered leaving because he couldn't take all of this anymore when in fact she's probably suffering more than he is. He silently reprimands himself for thinking of his priorities. Sure, America does need its hero again but. . .they're managing without him for now.

Steve watches where her fingers go. He doesn't pull his hand back. He just listens to her and feels even more terrible for his decision. He would leave a huge empty spot in her life? He shakes his head again to her apology. "No. . .no, it's fine. . ." He's unable to speak again. Watching her like this is beyond painful. He can't leave. Not now. Not without telling her his other plan. He decides not to mention that just yet though. It would be out of place.

"Mikayla. . ." Steve finally says. "Look at me. . .please." He keeps his eyes on her as her face remains hidden from view. He's not going to be selfish again. No, especially not around her. He'll have to think of the benefit for people as a whole, more particularly people he cares about.

Steve is going to show her that he has no intention of leaving her alone, regardless of all the nightmarish things that finished happening over the course of several hours.

'Look at me... please.'

The hard glint that had formed in her icy oculars had disappeared as soon as it had appeared, but she still didn't turn. She wanted to calm down to the point that there was no chance of breaking down again... not for a while anyway. She knew that the crying was actually healthy. Not crying when losing someone you loved dearly only hardened your heart, which was more trouble than it was worth. That was why she constantly searched for companionship, knowing she'd outlive them. She wanted to be able to feel...

Feel what? After what she'd just done to him, because she'd been feeling, she didn't know. She didn't want to feel pain... But without pain there'd be no recovery, or no chance for love. Love always carried pain... She just hoped it wasn't full-blown love that was trickling in.

Finally, slowly, she lifted her head and turned to face him. Her eyes were red and irritated, the darker blue of her eyes more prominent than the white-blue next to it, like she was cracked and broken inside. Which was oh so true at the moment. She stared into his eyes for a long moment, wanting to get lost in them so she wouldn't feel anything for a bit. But too many things were flying through her mind... nothing as bad as what he had, but at the same time, worse.

She tried to smile, but failed miserably, settling for the tiniest upturn of her lips. "Hi," she whispered hoarsely, swallowing hard.

Steve wait for a reaction. . .anything. Even if she pushes him away and says no. At least he'll have a response. He stares at her form, this feeling of wanting to protect her coming back to him.

Steve waits patiently and lowers one of his hands from her shoulders. She probably just wants to hide away from him now. He'd understand that but it doesn't mean that he'll leave. After finally hearing her tell him that she doesn't want him to go, he doesn't have the heart to just leave her here.

Then she finally looks at him. Steve stares into those eyes of hers that had gone through so many salty tears. He reaches over to run a finger down her face. The small attempt at a smile calms him. He doesn't want to see her hurt, emotionally or physically. He's still experiencing all the pain from seeing her so vulnerable in so many ways.

"Hi," Steve replies softly as his finger finds its way to her chin. He shortly removes it and looks at her a little longer, feeling a different sort of emotion replace the pain. "I took you on that date because I like you, Mikayla. I wanted to make you feel special."

Finally, Steve. You can say these sorts of things without stumbling over the words. He even smiles a bit in return.

Mikayla closed her eyes when his finger traveled down her face, taking a small amount of comfort from it. She had delayed her loss of him... and now she knew that the feelings were mutual. When he removed his hand from her chin, both of hers caught it, holding it gently. "I like you too," she said softly, so softly she almost didn't say it. It produced a slightly bigger smile, though... that was good, right?

She swallowed somewhat hard, trying to let her mind temporarily forget her most recent loss, concentrating on her most recent gain. She had him for a little while longer. That thought prompted her to scoot closer, and hoping that it came out as a 'sorry' - a word she'd be saying for a while now - she hid against him, her forehead rested against his chest. Still she fought back tears... it was bad enough she'd soaked him with blood, no need to get him wet with tears as well.

"I understand your reasoning behind taking me out... But planning on leaving so soon after?"

She lifted her head, looking at him. She didn't want to sound rude saying it, but she had to say it. "The Americas have survived the seventy years you were asleep. Longevity put aside, it's most likely you should be dead... Maybe you were preserved and kept alive for a reason, Steve? Not just to protect a country and the people of it, but to live a little...? You're only... what, 'twenty'? Maybe it's fate's way of saying 'Live your life, have fun... You'll be there when we need you, how we need you.'" She wanted to say more, but she stopped. She felt like she was walking on thin ice... she didn't know why, but she did. She didn't like the feeling, either, so she stopped.

She also felt selfish. That was her reasoning to make him stay... Maybe, maybe if she ever got him to a point that if he left she knew he'd come back - or perhaps, let her go with him - she'd... stop. Stop thinking of excuses. But she needed to stop thinking like that... That was something not likely to happen, and she didn't want to get her hopes up to only have them crash down on her.

She speaks so softly that Steve thinks he doesn't hear her at first. When she smiles more, it makes him feel a lot better. It relaxes him more. He knows that she must be hurting a lot, inside mostly. He's not going to pretend as if nothing happened. He also doesn't want to see her like this, which is why he's here for her right now.

When she leans against his chest, Steve raises a hand to run through her hair. Then when she speaks again, he pauses and lowers his hand, setting it lightly on her back. He returns her glance and listens to what she says. She's right. He shouldn't even have thought of leaving right after. That was wrong of him. As she keeps going though, he feels hurt yet inspired at once. Sad yet moved. It's like his past and his unknown future are colliding. His heart still wants to help out his country and do what he can. But. . .

Mikayla does make several good points. Maybe she's giving him reason enough to stay here. Perhaps it is indeed Fate telling him that he can move on, move on from Peggy and -

No, he can never forget her, although she would indeed want him to be happy. Steve looks at Mikayla and gives her a small smile. "You're really trying to convince me to stay, aren't you?" He chuckles a little, a little afraid to state his true feeling about what she told him. He inches a little closer toward her and takes one of her hands. "Mikayla. . .I want to finally ask you what I've wanted to ask you for a while. . ."

Steve pauses, feeling his heartbeat quicken a little in pace. "Remember when I told you that I know of a way you can spend your money well?" His grip tightens on her hand a little bit. "Mikayla. . ." He swallows. ". . .will you come to New York with me?"

Moving on wasn't forgetting, though, Steve.

Mikayla chuckled sheepishly, glad to once again feel his hand with hers. "I... Yes, I am, I-."

'Will you come to New York with me?'

That shut her up good, eyes a little wide. That was something to ask. "New York...?" Her eyes brightened for a moment, and it was more than obvious she was excited and about to say 'Yes!'. But then the icy orbs dulled, and a sad frown darkened her face. "I... I don't know if I can... I don't think I can leave Massa Marittima. It's not something sentimental that's holding me back, rather... I-I don't know what it is, exactly..."

She sighed, digging for the memory. "When I was a little younger, I got bored enough I decided to go to school again. I 'looked' around and heard of a new school in the Americas from some travelers. It was the Leland Stanford Junior University. I applied and was readily accepted. I left to attend, and I was there for about six months. I was terribly sick when I returned... but very rapidly recovered. I... I /think/ the longevity of a vampyre is tied with where they live... Or perhaps with where they were turned..."

She paused as something clicked. "Well. At least I know how to die now... I can't believe I didn't realize that before."

She blinked, and cleared her throat apologetically. She took his hand in both of hers. "Stay a few days longer, please? To give me time to try and figure out if there's anything I can do to counter that... to bring my longevity with me."

She needed it, if he didn't want her dying permanently on him... it would take a little under two years but so? She didn't know fully yet, but a vampyre was indeed tied to their homeland. She could travel all of Italy safely, but not leave. If she did, it would take her roughly six hundred twenty-eight days to die - a day for every year. That was shy her children had lived natural lives. They'd left and, like a human, died a little bit for every year they lived, running out of energy at around the age of eighty. Never having had a reason to leave, Mikayla had stayed, and continued living.

Her gaze was on him, looking imploringly into his eyes. "Would a few days make any difference if it meant I was able to go?"

He'd asked if she would, that meant he wanted her with him, right?

Steve nervously awaits her response. He's still going over his own words in his mind. Did he ask correctly? Did he stumble? He doesn't think he did. Did he even ask anything? Maybe he just imagined that he did. It's so strange that regardless of how comfortable he thinks that he's around Mikayla, he's still somewhat of an awkward man around her.

When her eyes brighten, Steve starts to smile. She's going to agree with him. She's actually going to travel to New York with him. How different that would be. He would be able to restart his life and actually have her there too. Her presence will actually ease him a lot than if he went alone. If he did that, he'd leave her and she's just join the list of people who are no longer around.

Before Steve can think further on that, he notices her expression change. His smile disappears and he expects to hear the worst. Well, maybe it's too soon for her. She's already gone through so much in so few hours, so it would make sense if she didn't want to travel immediately. It might be that or traveling with him can be something she's not really willing to do. Her home is here, so who is Steve to take her away from that?

Her reply confuses him though. Steve furrows an eyebrow at what she starts to say. He starts to ask what she means but then she goes into the story when she was younger. She got sick? But how and why? She answers that with a speculation. So does that mean that straying away from home causes her kind to lose its immortality? If that's the case, then it shouldn't be the biggest of deals. She can. . .she can. . .

. . .live her life with him, he's about to think. But Steve brushes that thought from his mind, noticing how deep, powerful, and intimate that thought is. It's thinking much too far.

Still. . .if traveling affects Mikayla's immortality, then it still shouldn't be the biggest of deals. It should be even better, unless it gets her sick again. Steve wouldn't want that. He tries to think and make sense of the situation as she asks him to stay a few more days. "But if it's only immortality you're worried about. . ." He stops himself and looks away for a moment, still attempting to understand it all.

Then her final question comes up. Steve looks at her again, still a little confused. No, it wouldn't make a difference. He wants to understand this as much as she does. His eyes briefly fall on his hand within both of hers. "No," he answers gently. "It won't. I'll wait for you." Here, he faces her once more.

The first thing MIkayla did was hug him, quite tightly. Then she pulled back, her mental exhaustion and her years showing in her eyes. "Steve, think. I'm six hundred and twenty-eight years old. My immortality is the only thing keeping me alive..." She stroked his hair a little bit. "I don't know how long I have without it... I don't..."

She paused, feeling her throat tighten a little, which confused her. "I don't want it to end up falling short..."

She cleared her throat, blinking away the tears that accompanied the thought of dying /too soon/. Now that she knew how to die permanently, she didn't want to. Especially not after finding the happiness he brought her. She sighed, leaning in and hugging him again, this one quite loving and much longer than the first. She cleared her throat again, pulling back, feeling heat in her cheeks. "Right... well, um... I should probably start looking through the Nosferatu section of my library... Feel free to come in to read up on history."

She smiled, then was gone with a slight 'whoosh!' and a brief gust of wind.

Mikayla was in the library for two days and two nights, not sleeping or eating, desperately reading through all her books on the supernatural, finally breaking into her father's collection. There, she found a thick book titled 'Lamia', written in the holy language. Thankfully, she knew Latin, so knew the book was titled 'Vampire'. But a quick flick through the thick yellow pages said otherwise; this was a book on her kind. She nearly let out a squeal before carefully clutching it to her chest and leaving to find steve.

"Look! I actually have one!"

She stopped nearby, putting the book gently on a surface before opening it up. Immediately they were greeted by an image of a creature not too different from her monster form. Her eyes skimmed over the words as she whispered the Latin, then repeated, but louder and in English. "A vampyre is mystically bound to the land he or she originates from. As long as they are surrounded by their home they may live, but wither and die when they leave... .For an elder vampyre, their age determines how many days it takes for their bodies to shut down; a slow and painful death that is preceded by a terrible illness. Vampyres born are still tied, but will live normal lives if they leave soon enough..."

She stopped reading aloud, skimming for more helpful information. "All offspring of a female vampyre will develop vampyrism during puberty, no matter if the male parent was vampyric or not. Offspring will not always develop full vampyrism; a child may inherit powers, strengths, weaknesses, bloodlust, a mixture of any, or all. No human child has ever been born a vampyric female, but vampyric males have had human sons, with human mates."

Again she stopped, frowning. "Well, that's depressing... no more kids for me, then."

She skimmed more, then brightened, becoming so excited she read the Latin out loud, instead of translating it. She then caught herself. "A vampyre may leave their country of origin if they carry on their bodies, close to their skin, one or more pieces of something from their earth of their land!"

She brightened considerably, looking at him. "I can go! I just need to carry on my something from Massa's earth... a stone, or a gem, or perhaps a vial of the earth itself, or- no, I have the perfect thing..."

She was nearly bouncing. She caught herself, and appeared to flicker, a box suddenly in her hands. She opened it, revealing a large blood-red ruby, smooth and polished, in a teardrop shape. Next to it were two smaller drops. "Leo gave this to me when he was a boy. He told me he'd been poking around in a nearby mine, and his lantern light made it seem to glow. He said he picked at it for hours, finally freeing it, and hid it for months until he had enough money to get it cut. On my birthday, he held out to me a ruby heart the size of his hand, cut with facets like a normal gemstone to make it shine. Unfortunately, cut ruby is brittle, especially blood rubies... and one day while cleaning he knocked it over off the shelf I had it on. It shattered on the ground. I found him, a thirty-year-old man at that point, sobbing over the shards and pieces, trying to clean it up but not wanting to break or scatter it further. I calmed him down, and we put every piece to use - the largest three you see here. The largest was the middle of it, the two smaller ones the outside curves. The little shards I had set in a silver picture frame."

She stopped talking, looking into the core of the gem that did indeed seem to glow, so captivating that it seemed alive. She smiled softly. "I've never told anyone this, not even Marcus. And you're only the second one to see these drops other than myself and Leonardo, the other being the woman who shaped them. It... These would be a good choice, si? Using Leonardo's gift of a heart to keep mine going?" Her eyes found Steve's, her love for the late butler so evident it was almost painful.

Steve returns the tight hug with a one-armed one of his own. Then he looks down at her and listens. When she says her age, he tries to keep from wincing. Regardless on how often he's reminded that she's centuries old, he still finds it hard to believe. He doesn't want to think too far into it so that he can prevent potential darker thoughts.

Steve understands where she's coming from. Well, he doesn't understand since he can't relate but now he sees why she's worried about her immortality. It would be a horrible thing if they were in America together and she fell over and reduced to nothingness. He would blame himself completely.

He immediately tears the horrible thought from his head.

Mikayla helps with that when she takes him in for a more intimate hug. This time, he sets both arms around her and holds her lightly for as long as she does to him. Then when she pulls away, Steve realizes what he did and flushes briefly. He gives her a quick nod. "Right. . ."

How many opportunities had passed where he just wanted to. . .

As the days go by, Steve does take Mikayla's advice and reads up on history. He does wish he had chances to see her but he's so caught up with his reading that time goes by so quickly. He reads on the Americas, Europe, and even Asia. Stacks of books lay scattered around his room.

While Steve reads on this new technology of computers (he's only reached the 80s after all), Mikayla comes in and invites him to see something. He goes without hesitation and listens to her discoveries. It's all very strangely and darkly fascinating. He's glad Mikayla just didn't agree to come with him or else his nightmares may have come true.

When she keeps reading and comments on not having anymore babies, Steve doesn't understand why he feels strange. He frees himself of the feeling and keeps listening. His eyes brighten when she says she can go. "Really? Well, that's fantastic, Mikayla." He smiles broadly. Mikayla in modern New York with him. The image is so pleasing and ideal to him.

When she brings out the box and tells the story of the ruby, he feels his heart sink. Steve senses the strong emotionality behind her words. She had raised Leonardo and lived so long with him. This was just another heavy loss for her, which makes him feel terrible. He doesn't enjoy the thought of her experiencing any type of suffering.

Steve wants to raise a hand to her face but doesn't. Instead he says, "It means a lot that you shared this with me, Mikayla. That ruby is the perfect choice. Leonardo would have loved that as I'm sure he loved you." He gives a little smile and clears his throat out of sudden nervousness.

Mikayla felt her lips turn up in a smile as saltwater drops rolled down her cheeks, and she took in a shaky breath. Telling that particular story so soon after Leo's death affected her more than she thought it would. However, the memory of Steve returning that more... intimate hug came in and helped calm her down. "Yeah," she whispered, swallowing back more tears. "I, um..."

She looked away for several long moments, clearing her throat, then returned her gaze to him. "You're the only person I've wanted to tell..."

To her, that came out a little weird and a little big. But she meant it so she didn't say anything after... She just hadn't meant to say it outloud. "Well, um... give me time to fashion them into something... I... If I work fast I should be done in a few hours... we should be able to leave early the day after tomorrow, if that sounds reasonable. If you're in a terrible hurry, we can leave tomorrow..."

She started to lean toward him, but caught herself very early in, feeling heat in her cheeks when she realized what she'd been about to do. She stood, book and box in hand, and left...

Only to request his presence later that evening, standing in the doorway. She was wearing her night clothes again, but they were more... modest - silk pants and a tank top, both black... enabling what she had come to show him to stick out as it should. The large ruby drop was hanging from its point, some thickish silver wire dug into the gem slightly to prevent it from simply slipping. It rested in the valley of her cleavage - easily visible due to the top - while the other two sat a little under her collar bone, their points acting as the joining point between the intricate necklace and the chain. The were aesthetically hidden among coils and leaves, bit still visible. The core of the largest seemed to pulse, as if mimicking her heartbeath. The intricate triangle was attached to a thick elf-weave chain, built to prevent breakage.

She cleared her throat softly, toying with the hem of her shirt. "How does it look?" she asked softly. She wanted something worthy of holding those rubies, and for that knowledge, she required his opinion.

If that ruby did indeed show her pulse, she was nervous for some reason, as the pulsing glow was slightly accelerated...

She chewed her lip. "Should I redo it?"

Always not thinking her work was any good. Most of her jewelry was hand-crafted.

"Also, I have a question. Two, actually... is... Is flying as scary as it sounds? And where will we be staying? I need to be able to tell Marcus how to contact me if there's something he needs help with regarding the house and animals."

She fully intended on returning... eventually. She wasn't going to let the house go to ruin, or let the animals starve or go wild. So she asked Marcus to watch it for her.

At Mikayla's reaction, Steve wipes a couple tears from her face. Although he's seen her cry quite a few times recently, it still doesn't hurt him less. He returns her sad smile and gives her a little space as she seems to gather herself together. Her next words are a little unexpected. He's the only person she's wanted to tell? His lips part in an apparent attempt to reply but she beats him to it.

When she tells him that she's going to fashion the rubies into something, Steve nods. "Alright," he says in a voice just above a whisper. "We can leave whenever you want." Then another action happens that comes as a surprise. It even causes his heartbeat to accelerate and heat to rise. But almost as quickly as it happened. . .

. . .she pulls back.

Steve tenses very subtly and swallows. He watches as she leaves and then looks downward. His nervousness had taken over him again. He should have just taken her and completed the action. He has the courage to do so many things but when it comes to her. . .he becomes uncertain.

Throughout the rest of the day, Steve spends time in his room, reading without his shirt on. For some reason, he's found it a lot more comfortable to be without a shirt. It's how he's spent his time every moment he's in that room. Of course upon leaving it, he's quick to put on a t-shirt.

So when Mikayla appears, Steve puts down the book quickly and is about to search for a shirt but something distracts him. It's the fact that she's fashioned such a beautiful item around her neck. His eyes glance over her for a moment before settling back on that big ruby. He stands up from the bed and begins to walk over, trying to control the flush due to where he's staring. He might be a gentleman but he's still a man after all.

"It looks fantastic," Steve says with a small smile. "Mikayla, you're so good at this. No, you don't have to redo it at all. If I didn't know. . .I would say that you bought that somewhere." He chuckles slightly.

To her questions, Steve pauses and stops a couple feet from the doorway. He thinks a moment. He hasn't flown in anything recent. As for where they'll stay, well. . .he'll have to be honest since he hasn't been to America since he awakened.

"Flying isn't so bad," Steve answers as he looks at her again. "I've only been in planes from the 1940s but I'm sure everything's better now. It can actually be a little relaxing." He gives another small smile. "And we'll stay in a hotel at first. I'm pretty sure I can get my old apartment back somehow." As he thinks, his mind starts to wander of how a modern New York looked now. He should have scanned over the pictures. He can't imagine it changing significantly.

Steve shakes his head of the thoughts so that he can focus on Mikayla again. He takes a few steps closer. "I'm really happy you've decided to travel with me. I have to thank you. . .thank you in advance for doing this. It means a lot to me." He speaks the last part lowly, sincerely as his eyes find hers.

Mikayla felt a bashful blush develop on her cheeks when he complimented the quality of the craftsmanship, toying with the largest ruby slightly, which appeared to 'beat' even faster. She allowed her eyes the luxury of looking at him. After all, if he was allowed to look at her - though she knew perfectly well it was the /necklace/ he'd been staring at - she had the right to look back, si? "If you found a piece of jewelry with blood diamonds in it I'd kiss you... I've been looking for years. They're so... amazing. But I didn't want to chance ruining these... This necklace is sloppy and not the best quality but I'm proud that I didn't destroy any of the pieces..."

Her eyes snuck another quick look at him as he answered her other questions. After a few moments she caught herself and controlled the rising facial heat, biting her lip when hearing about the apartment. "That is... if it's still there... It's been seventy years, there's been changes, I'm sure."

She smiled softly. "None that I can really say, seeing as I really don't know anything about the States... I..." She paused when he said it meant a lot, then smiled again. "I'm honored that you asked... I figured you'd book it after everything that happened. I'm... I'm still sorry for all that, by the way. I'll always be sorry for your nightmarish time here..."

At her own mention of nightmare, she paused, then sighed deeply. "Um... future warning... Until I... Until I have a steady residence and thus a room I can protect... well, at least when your bed is accessible... If you wake to find me in you bed... think nothing of it? I..." Boy her cheeks were pink. "When I have nightmares, I... and after Florence when you scared that one off, I..."

"Just... if you find me in your bed, don't think anything of it... I'm just there to feel safe... N-Not for any other reason..."

She just wanted to get that out of the way before they left, in case he did indeed wake up to find himself sharing his warmth with a cold, trembling vampyre.

She cleared her throat, and smiled, then patted his chest gently, pausing with their skin still making contact. He was so warm... at least, compared to her. And there was so much flesh exposed she was tempted to just lean in and cuddle... But she quickly removed the thought from her head and her hand from his chest. She leaned up slightly, caught herself... then released herself and completed the action. She reached up and placed the briefest of kisses on his lips... but even those few milliseconds were enough for it to not just be a normal kiss...

She dropped back down, trying to control both her flushing and her sense of satisfaction... she'd wanted to do that since their picnic dinner date. Granted, then she'd aimed for a longer, more meaningful one, but now... Well, she could survive with that peck. For now.

She stood there for a moment, trying to think if there was anything else needing said or done... then smiled and waved a little, still where she was. "Goodnight, Steve. See you in the morning."

Steve is a bit oblivious to the fact that she's looking at him the way she is. He listens to her words and controls yet another rush of color to his face. It's because of what she said she'd do to him if he found jewelry with blood diamonds in them. Why don't you kiss me anyway? is his thought. He realizes what he's thinking and almost physically reacts to it. Part of the reason is because he's the one who should be acting on such a thing. He almost doesn't even hear the rest of what she says. He nods and chuckles in spite of himself. "I still think it's great," he tells her.

Mikayla is right about the fact that the apartment probably has changed. The military had helped him get it though. Steve wants to think more deeply into this but the further he thinks about it, the more he realizes that it doesn't make sense if his apartment can just be rented out to him just like that. He would probably have to find another one. He doesn't have any connections anymore. He has to remember that he's starting over, regardless on how difficult that still is to do.

"It's. . .it's fine," Steve replies to her apology. "It wasn't all nightmarish." He smiles a bit, unable to take his eyes from her, despite how awkward he feels. Why can't he change around women, this one especially? He wants to emphasize more on what he said but Mikayla keeps going. A brief yet small look of surprise fills his features as she gives him that inarticulate warning. He really hasn't heard her speak like this before. He knows that the subject is a little strange, considering that she's telling him how she'll probably be in his bed when in New York. The thought makes him avert his glance, controlling yet another blush.

She feels safe around him though. Steve can tell. She doesn't even have to say it for him to know that. Looking back at her again, he nods. "It'll be. . .it'll be alright. I won't mind if I. . .if I see you there." He speaks the last words softly as he looks back at her. "If you feel safe with me, then you can come to me whenever you want." He wouldn't find it indecent in any way, despite his morals. If she was afraid, he would bring her close to him and hold her. With her. . .things are different. . .

. . .almost like how they were with Agent Carter.

When Mikayla pats his chest, Steve remembers that he's without his shirt. He looks down at her hand making contact with his skin. He should go and get his shirt but he doesn't even make the effort to do so. He only moves his eyes from her hand to her face. His breathing is steady and soft, which contrasts greatly to his heartbeat. He parts his lips to say something. He even starts to raise his hand so that he can touch her face. But then he immediately stops when she starts to lean toward him like before. He freezes and his pulse intensifies. When she stops, Steve is about to say what he wanted to say. . .

That's until her lips land upon his.

A small surge of shock crosses through him. Steve almost doesn't even know how to react. It's a very, very brief kiss but it still delivers warmth through his skin. It's not satisfying. Not at all. It's only a sneak peek, a tease - a small hint of what he wanted to do. He doesn't even know if he should do anything about it. He looks back at her, seeing her smile and wave at him. He's about to nod, clear his throat, and say good night right back to her. Then he thinks it over. That isn't what he wants to do.

So Steve steps forward and wraps an arm around Mikayla, bringing her toward him so that he can meet her lips again for a longer, meaningful, and slightly passionate encounter. The warmth flows more strongly through him and he almost starts to feel dizzy, as though their energies have melded together in a moment that's been postponed for too long. Before, he would have imagined Peggy in front of him and in his embrace. Not now though. Now he's only aware of the vampyre woman who he keeps close to him as his opposite hand slides up her face and through her hair. He might not have much experience in this but he does what his instincts - and heart - tell him to do.

Mikayla smiled sheepishly. "Thanks... I, uh... I just thought I should tell you first, so you know /why/ I'm there..."

She had just started to turn to walk to her room when she felt contact, then pressure as he pulled her closer. She had just enough time for a confused look to take over her face before their lips were connected once more. At first she stiffened in surprise, as she hadn't expected a positive response to that quick kiss. She'd expected him to tell her goodnight, turn, and leave, not... /this/.

Not that she was complaining! No... after a few long milliseconds, she recovered, and smiled, loosening up in his embrace, her hand finding its way to his cheek when his went through her hair. Her other arm felt like joining the first, and hooking around his neck, but she kept control of them, and left them where they lay - his cheek and his chest, allowing both thumbs to rub the flesh she touched. She closed her eyes, reopening them when they finally parted...

Revealing to him a different color. No longer did they resemble broken Arctic ice, but instead the warm tropical waters of the equator, a diluted blue-green color with the /slightest/ hint of brown on the outside, bordering more toward 'fawn'. It made her seem warmer, happier... just appearing a better person all around. Being her eyes, she couldn't exactly tell the difference, so didn't act any different. For a few moments, she merely stood there, still looking a little shocked. But then she smiled softly, and spoke the same. "I never knew you were such a good kisser..."

She was praying there were more of those in the future. She didn't care how soon or how far, but as long as there was another she'd be happy.

She cleared her throat, and looked down, then back up at his face. "Well, um... I probably should get to bed, so... goodnight, again..."

She gave his hand a squeeze, then turned and walked, her fingers seeming to take ages to leave his hand, though it only took about a heartbeat's time before she was gone and out of sight.

Steve has this incredible sensation pass through him when she falls into his embrace and returns his kiss. He feels lost, almost as though he's no longer in the room but someplace else. It's such an amazing experience the entire time it lasts.

When she pulls away, Steve looks into her eyes, which are now a different shade. He gives her a small smile in reaction to her gaze and to what just happened. She looks so at ease, so. . .human. That's probably not the right word but her eyes affect him in such a positive way that he doesn't particularly understand yet. They make him feel happy.

To her words, a small tinge of red colors Steve's cheeks. "Oh, I. . ." He chuckles to relieve the awkwardness. He never thought he was a good kisser either. He doesn't even complete what he's saying. He just chuckles again and runs one hand through his hair.

As soon as Mikayla says good night, Steve feels a little bummed. He was actually hoping she'd stay, even though it wouldn't have been custom in his time. He's still a man who can think for himself though. This is the first time he's ever expressed himself like this to a woman, so in a way, the feeling is a longing one.

However, not wanting to express his thoughts on the matter, Steve just nods a little. ". . .yeah, good night." He cracks a smile but doesn't move from his spot. Why should he? He's the one that doesn't want this to end. He looks down at their hands that haven't left each other yet. He lightly squeezes her fingers but that's when she leaves.

Steve stands there for a moment and then sighs while still smiling. The echoes of the kiss still ring over his lips. He turns and goes to lay down on the bed again. Resting one arm behind his head, the moment repeats over and over in his mind. So this is how a first kiss affects a man. Yes, he has kissed other women in the 40s but they hadn't meant anything. With Peggy. . .it had taken him by surprise and it was too brief and sudden to have meant anything, although he'll never forget it.

This kiss though. . .it's Steve's first real one. He smiles again and feels genuinely happy for once. It's a way he hasn't felt since awakening in this era. He has so much to thank Mikayla for. When first meeting her, little did he know how things would have turned out. The thought alone makes him chuckle to himself as he lays there.

Finally his little moment of peace has arrived.


	10. Chapter 10

Mikayla laid in her bed for what she figured would be the last time in a long while. But that's not what was in her head... What was stuck on 'reply' was just that kiss... over and over and over. But she didn't grow tired of it... in fact, it made her want another one even more... she hadn't had a kiss feel like /that/ in a long time. He really was something special... she'd gotten a date and a pretty nice kiss out of the man. Was she really hitting a lucky streak or was life screwing with her again?

She rolled over and hugged her pillow, lying on another, closing her eyes and smiling. She was happy, for now, and she was going to let that shine...

Mikayla was up early the next morning, earlier than Steve. She decided to make him breakfast in bed... but she needed a way to keep him in his room, knowing he'd probably be up soon. She whistled softly, and waited, then smiled to see a pair of solid blue eyes in front of her. "Go say 'Hello' to Steve while I make us breakfast... and keep him in his room."

She went down to the kitchen, cleaning up and making food, while Steve got a new visitor: Nevar the raven. He was large, even for a raven, and his feathers cast a blue sheen when hit with the sunlight, instead of the bluegreen most black birds had. His eyes were a light blue, completely solid with no discernible pupil. Swirls and symbols were carved into his beak, but it seemed to hinder the bird none as he opened the door to the guest's room and flew in, landing on the footboard of the bed, looking at Steve. He croaked softly, watching the man, tilting his head. Steve looked asleep still... perhaps almost awake? He croaked again, louder, then hopped down onto the bed, hopping forward until he was standing on Steve's chest, his claws spread and gripping lightly for balance and stability. He almost looked like he was smiling as he croaked again, watching the human's eyes open, tilting his head, wings held slightly away from the body but still folded.

Mikayla appeared a few minutes after, smiling, holding a tray. "Good morning, Steve. Has Nevar been good company?"

She set the tray on the end of the bed, and put her arm across Steve's chest for the bird to step on, lifting him off so he could sit up and enjoy the food she'd brought him. "I cooked you some breakfast... I hope it's okay..."

A good stack of pancakes, a smiley face made of eggs and bacon with sausage eyebrows, and a bowl of various fruits sliced up, sprinkled with a very fine dusting of powdered sugar. She smiled hopefully, looking at him and awaiting his response, letting Nevar rest on her shoulder. She was still wearing her nightwear.

Steve falls asleep while thinking of the last few moments with Mikayla. He dreams. He dreams of the 1940s again. He's back and he's coming home from war. People are celebrating. There's music, smiling people, cars everywhere, and many of the soldiers. Posters of Captain America are everywhere. 'Hero,' they call him. 'Savior to us all.'

Steve smiles and can't believe that he's here. He sees Colonel Phillips who sets a hand on his shoulder and says, "Good work, Captain. I underestimated you." He makes the smallest effort to smile. It's all so surreal. As the Captain walks through the crowd, he sees the one woman waiting for him with the biggest smile. It's so apparent to tell that she's trying to shield herself from reacting too much. She doesn't want to show how happy she is to see him.

Agent Carter. . .

Steve approaches, only focusing on her. When he stands in front of her, he says, "Sorry I'm late." He places on an awkward smile. Here he is with her again. She had been waiting for him. The thought sends a great amount of warmth through him.

Peggy gives his chest a playful pat. "Yes, you are soldier," she says through her smile. Then she lightly clears her throat. "But you have to go back. . ."

Steve tilts his head. "Back?"

Peggy nods as she fights back any tears that might stain her eyes. "Yes. Back home. We know that you'll never forget us, Steven Rogers. We never forgot you." She pauses. "-I- never forgot you. . ."

"Peggy. . .what are you saying? I'm. . .I'm home. I'm here now." Steve makes an attempt to reach for her hand.

Agent Carter shakes her head. "You've made enough sacrifices. You're a selfless man, Steve. Now it's time that you think about what's best for you. It's. . .what I want you to do. If you're happy, I'll be happy for you." She says this last part as she sets a hand to Steve's cheek. "Go home, Steve. You've already kept one woman waiting. Now. . .you have another choice. . ."

Peggy's face is the last thing that Steve sees in her dream. And just like the day he crash landed, her voice is the last he hears. Then all begins to fade away as if in slow motion. He opens his eyes instantly only to see a blue-eyed raven on his chest. Luckily he doesn't startle easily or he would have jerked up.

Tilting his head slightly, Steve stares at the odd-looking bird. "Hello," he says, thinking that the animal will understand him. Then before anything else happens, Mikayla steps in. That warmth instantly returns to him. . .as does the dream. He smiles upon seeing her.

"Good morning," Steve says a little lowly, thinking about so many things that involve her. He's very touched at the fact that she made him breakfast. In the 1940s, it was the ultimate gesture for a woman to cook for a man. So this means a lot to him. "Nevar? Is that his name?" He smiles a little more.

When Mikayla takes the bird from his chest, Steve sits up and looks at her. "Thank you very much for this. I know I'll like it." He doesn't even eat immediately, despite the fact that it really does look delicious. And the smiley face is adorable. "I appreciate you doing this. You're. . .you're really good to me." He gives her another smile and wants to take her hand and bring her to him. Instead, he clears his throat and focuses on the breakfast in front of him. "Wow, this looks great," he remarks with yet another smile. "Thank you again, Mikayla."

Steve wants to tell her so many things but. . .he knows that there is always a right time for everything.

Nevar croaked in response to Steve's 'hello', then again when he said his name. Mikayla nodded, sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling brightly now that she knew he was okay with the breakfast. "Yes, Nevar. Not very imaginative seeing as it's just 'raven' backwards... But I was young when I got him. He's a 'thank you' gift from... another being of the supernatural world. We've all got to stick together to keep hidden, you know?"

She looked down, stroking the feathers of the bird, then let her hand lower to Steve's leg, where she just let it rest. She then looked back up at him, watching as he started to eat. "Did you sleep well last night?"

Mikayla had slept like a puppy... no dreams, as per usual. It made her question her sanity, as dream's were the mind's way of staying sane. But she woke with a smile on her face. She figured her body just 'skipped' nights after having experienced so many... but she also figured the dreams were soon to start again. She had so much fresh material.

She unconsciously rubbed his leg gently, a distant but happy look in her eyes as she looked at him. That was something new found in those mystical orbs of hers: happy. Before, she'd been content... but happy had started inching in the night she'd nearly died for him; fed from him... and now it finally had a place.

She looked at Nevar, then at Steve. "I... I was wondering if Nevar could come? I've had him since I was young... /really/ young... and I'd hate to leave him... I'd understand if you'd rather him not come, though, and so would he. He's smart enough to understand. Right, Nevar?"

He croaked in response, then turned his dark head to look at the man.

Mikayla patted his leg. "Don't worry about that now, though... I'm not quite ready to go. Probably tomorrow... so you've got plenty of time."

She stood back up with a final gentle squeeze to his leg. "Well, the things I need to do require being presentable so I should probably go get dressed." She hesitated only for a split second, then leaned down and placed a light kiss on his forehead before turning around and heading out.

Nevar, however, decided to keep Steve company, flying to the headboard, 'walking' his way over until he was right above his shoulder. He stayed on the wood, though, since his shoulder was uncovered, and he didn't want to draw blood from his master's Interest.

Steve pauses as he begins to eat. 'Raven' backwards. He hadn't even thought of that until she said it right now. He nods and starts with the stack of pancakes. He takes a couple bites and comments, "Well, he's a very good-looking bird. One-of-a-kind for sure." He looks at the raven and gives him a small smile before resuming to eating the breakfast.

When Mikayla's hand touches Steve's leg, he glances down for a moment and then reaches forward to give her hand a light pat. "Yeah, I slept well. . .better than I have in a long time. That's for sure." He clears his throat lightly and pretends it's because of the food. He doesn't want to make it too obvious that he had been thinking of her last night. It would bring out the awkwardness in him as usual.

Steve also doesn't want to mention the dream, which he knows he'll think about later. Right now it doesn't cross his mind because Mikayla's here, making him feel comfortable and nice with how she rubs his leg so gently. To him, it's an intimate gesture but he doesn't object to it. He only continues eating as though it's normal for all this to happen. Here she is in her nightgown, he's shirtless, and she's in his room, sitting on his bed, and rubbing his leg.

Not typical but Steve's become comfortable with it when it concerns her.

Looking closely at her, he notices how different her face looks. From her eyes to just her entire expression: she looks brighter. Steve can't really place it but it makes him smile. "You're lovely, Mikayla," he says for no reason at all. Then he begins to eat the second half of the stack.

To her question, Steve takes another pause in the meal. He chuckles at Nevar's croak in response. He's becoming quickly attached to the bird, which shocks him. "Tell you what," he says. "If he can help us ward off some New York pigeons, I'll be more than happy to have him aboard." He laughs softly after that and looks directly at the raven again. Then he takes another bite.

Steve looks up at Mikayla when she stands. He pauses again in his eating and nods to what she says. When she leans to kiss his forehead, he reaches forward to give her hand a brief yet gentle squeeze. Then he watches her leave and proceeds to finish the pancakes. He starts to work on the eggs and bacon when he notices the bird so close to him.

"You care for her a lot, I bet," Steve says after giving him a brief look. In-between bites, he speaks a little more. "She's a great woman though. Very great. She deserves. . ." He pauses and chuckles in spite of himself. ". . .she deserves so much." He takes another bite of the egg and looks to the side at the raven again. "You're not gonna go tell her all this, are you? You a blabbermouth bird?" He laughs a little again and then goes on to finish the delicious breakfast meal.

Mikayla laughed softly as Nevar's already large frame grew larger as he swelled with pride, his feathers poofing a little, at Steve's compliment. Her smile was even brighter than before. "Keep saying things like that and he'll never leave your shoulder."

Nevar listens quietly to Steve as he talks, tilting his head this way and that. Then he answers each ending question with a different croak - one sounded rather assuring, the other, a little insulted. But he rested his large black beak on the top of his head, making softer, cooing sounds. Steve had a new friend as far as this bird was concerned.

Mikayla smiled from the doorway, having changed into... that tan dress. It looked as good as new, as if blood hadn't drenched more than half of it, as if that blade hadn't torn into it... as if she hadn't thrown it away back in Florence. "Well, aren't you too absolutely adorable? I wish I had a camera on me."

She giggled as Nevar squawked and took a few steps back, feathers lifted a little, then smoothed out and calmed down. She smiled as she walked in, her hair done up in a simple bun that allowed her curls to cascade down like stalks of obsidian Salvia flowers. She wore a small amount of makeup - not too much to distract, but rather, just enough to enhance. Especially with the soft green-blue gradient eyeshadow she wore. She waited until he was done eating, producing a glass of orange juice, seeing as she'd forgotten it earlier. "Here... I'm sure you'd like something to wash it all down with. Fruit juice and syrup only make it worse... sorry I forgot it before."

She took the tray, then the glass once it was emptied. "Well, um... it's official. We're leaving tomorrow. Our tickets will arrive shortly, Marcus will be bringing them with him... I've just got to get a few things straightened out with him and another volunteer and then we'll be set." She smiled. "At least... I will. Not sure about you, although I don't know what would be hindering you... other than that bird."

She smirked at Nevar, then turned and walked toward the door to return the tray and things to the kitchen. "Oh... if you need me for any reason I'll either be in the library, the backyard, or the living room, which is right across from the main doors."

Then her figure was behind the wall and out of sight.

Steve chuckles at the raven's reactions. To one croak in particular, he seems to understand, which is why he says, "Alright, sorry. It looks like I can trust you then." He finishes up the breakfast and feels the beack land over his head. He smiles a little bit and reaches back to run one finger gently along the feathers. This is a strange situation for him. . .but it's also comforting. It's almost like a soldier and his dog. Almost. . .

Hearing the woman's voice from the doorway, Steve looks over immediately. He parts his lips to remark until he sees the dress looking brand new on her. Regardless on how long he's seen it on her, viewing it now is as if he's seeing it for the first time. His eyes stay on her, running over her frame once as he closes his jaw as to now appear so breathtaken.

Steve notices everything about her. Her giggle, her hair, her make up, her expressions: he takes it all in and swallows once. His blood rushes through him. He tries not to focus too much on that so that he can listen to her words. He takes the orange juice and nods. "Thanks," he says lower than usual. He smiles a little and drinks from the glass. This is a good distraction.

Good thing that she brings up the flight. Steve lowers the glass and smiles. "Really? That's great news. I -" He stops because he hears what she says about the bird. He chuckles a little. "Yeah, I guess he can be the only thing stopping me." He jokes and looks at the raven again.

When Mikayla speaks again, Steve looks at her and wants to respond but she disappears as quickly as she usually does. He releases a breath and leans back against the headboard. "She really knows how to get my attention," he says, almost without realizing it. He turns to Nevar for a moment, smiles, and shakes his head. "She knows how I feel about that dress."

The thought of that makes Steve smile more. Is she really wearing that for him? A woman like her doing all of this for a man like him. He never would have imagined. Even more, she's traveling across the ocean with him. Excitement fills him just by thinking of that. He'll be in New York again. He probably won't recognize it but he'll be in his home. He'll be starting his new life.

And Mikayla will be there with him.

Steve gets out of bed while feeling the happiness he hasn't felt since the 40s. He reaches over to grab a towel. He looks at Nevar. "I'll be right back." He goes to take a shower and comes out wearing a plain blue button down with khakis. Ah, Steve. . .you can never let those clothes go.

He steps out of the room and hopes that the raven will follow him. Subconsciously he hopes this. Steve barely realizes that he gestures for the bird to come along. He decides to just take a walk around the grand place for now before seeking out the woman who's been constantly filling his thoughts recently.

Nevar tilted his head when Steve spoke again about Mikayla, and it almost seemed as if he was smiling. He waited patiently as his new friend took a shower, preening himself on the footboard. At Steve's unconscious 'follow' gesture, he took off and lighted on his shoulder carefully, trying not to dig his claws in, but trying to grip at the same time.

He stayed on his shoulder for a good while as Steve explores, then took off in a startled explosion of feathers when a Scottish accent suddenly spoke from behind them. "So yer the lad tha's takin' th elady, eh?"

The owner of the voice laughed deeply, lifting his head. The top was clean shaven, but shocking red hair sprouted from his jaw, chin, and lip. Another shock of red could be found in his eyes... they were intense, and so full of energy and life, with spikes of gold in them. They were like fire. He as well was a large burly man... as well as being of Mikayla's kind, proven by the flashing fangs revealed in a grin. However, he was no vampyre. Every tooth was sharp and deadly-looking, instead of just the incisors.

"Ye might'n git some leather pauldrons while yer at it, boy... The talons o' a raven may no be the sharpest, but ye cannae jus' ignore them either. They can hurt. Nevar proved tha' when I firs' met his master, Lady Mikayla. Tried to take a little nip 'n next thing I know me throat's smilin'. I healed o' course... Ravens cannae kill a daemon, ye know. Neither can vampyres, but she sure put her li'l heart into it. It was mighty adorable, I do say so meself."

He held out a bear's paw of a hand, the nails thick, curved, and pointed into short-but-dangerous claws. "I reckon we ain't seein' the other after tomorrow, but introductions be in order, methinks. Ye can call me Scotch. I cannae hurt ya, it'd gain me nothin' 'n I got no reason, so don' be mindin' me arsenal."

He smiled more nicely, which turned into a happy grin when Nevar returned, resting on the Scottsman's pauldron-covered shoulder. The raven, large as he was, looked delicate under the man's fingers, but he wasn't scared. After a few moments, the black bird transferred shoulders, going from a secure grip to a tender one.

"Ach, I'd give ye me own pauldrons, but alas, they'd be more greaves fer ye. Perhaps, ye can git the lady to fasion ye a pair out o' the deer hide she has out back. That way ye both can be more comfortable. No need to be o' any great cut like mine... A simple patch under yer shirt'd suffice fine."

Nevar turned his blue gaze down the hall, and let a very displeased sound escaped his beak. Mikayla's voice sounded immediately after. "Scotch!"

At first it seemed Nevar had made the sound at Mikayla, but then Marcus rounded the corner, looking very trim and proper, as usual. As Mikayla ran down the hall and jumped into the big daemon's arms, he busied himself with repositioning a painting just so. "The feeling's mutual Nevar," he said in a very apathetic tone, his face nonchalant as he walked over. "So be quiet before you don't have a beak to sound through."

Nevar's feathers rose, and he made another displeased sound. Marcus' eyes narrowed, and the Raven seemed to smirk smugly. Mikayla sighed. "Ladies, that's /enough/. Steve, you already know Marcus and it seems you've met Scotch. I was going to introduce you, but... well, seems he beat me to it. Scotch here is a daemon... he may seem intimidating but trust me... If he's got no reason to be mad he's really just a big Scottish teddy bear."

Scotch grinned cheekily and chuckled. "Aye... I cannae tell if it's good or bad tha' the lass knows me so well."

"Well, boys, you both know where you should be. Would you excuse us?"

"Oh, no problem, lass."

The daemon squeezed her hand gingerly, then both he and the vampyre made their way down the hall. Mikayla waited a bit before turning to Steve. "Sorry if he bothered you at all. After Nevar put him in his place he's acted kind of like an older brother... including the protectiveness. He's brash but has a good heart... my exact reason for letting him take care of the estate and horses. I, um..."

She looked down, her hand gripping a few of his fingers. "In all truth we could have left today. I mean, it's only eleven now... I just... I needed today to say 'goodbye'... m-more like 'see you later' but goodbye nonetheless... The longest I have ever left casa di Silverblood was when I went to Florence with you. I had never spent the night away before..."

"You know, there's a lot of things I've done with you that I've never done with others. I took you to Florence with me... I went on a date with you... I felt safe around you... I fought for you. I think the biggest so far is I let you in my room. No one else has ever been in there... Not Marcus, not Leo... not any of my husbands nor family members."

She paused, and released a shaky sigh. She turned, and put a hand to his cheek, chewing her lip. She then leaned up and kissed him for the second time, relishing the feeling that came with it. "No... I was wrong. The biggest so far is I'm leaving Italia with you. For you." She smiled, he reyes very happy and showing a fair amount of affection for him.

Steve adjusts to the feeling of the claws. They're a lot sharper than expected. He expects that they're sharper than the average bird's but he hasn't carried birds around before, so he wouldn't know. He walks through the areas of the place that he hasn't explored yet, which is saying something in itself because he explored a lot during his first few days here. When hearing the voice, he stiffens for a moment and turns around.

When Steve lays his eyes upon the man, an uneasy feeling passes through him. He's not able to explain it at the moment, so he attempts to ignore it. Instead, he scrunches a brow at the strange-looking man and listens to him speak. He nods once and thinks about how he hadn't been at all attacked by the bird. Well, not yet anyway.

"Yeah. . ." Steve says after a moment. "I'll keep that in mind." Then when he mentions vampyres, daemons, and how he probably referred to Mikayla, the uneasiness rises. Now he knows why he feels this way. Anything about demons or daemons always put him on edge. He tries not to show that discomfort during the encounter.

When the strange hand is offered, Steve hesitates. He can't seem rude, despite the fact that he doesn't want to shake this man's hand. This is a guest of Mikayla's. He has to keep that in mind. He reaches over and shakes the man's hand in a firm grip. Then he continues to listen at the man talk about what to wear for protection from the raven's claws.

At the sound that Nevar makes, Steve looks down the hall and hears Mikayla's voice. He starts to feel better already, considering that this encounter was bizarre for him. He stands by as the scene continues. Marcus appears and Nevar doesn't seem to like him much. That's all Steve can make of it anyway. When Mikayla refers to him, he gives a nod straight to Marcus in acknowledgement.

Steve then faces the daemon again as she talks about him. He doesn't say much at all. He doesn't know exactly what to say. He does know that, had this been the 40s, Scotch would have fit the description of an enemy. Now it looks like creatures of all types have the ability to be neutral. They don't all fall under the same stereotype.

Steve bids the men farewell as they leave. Then he lets out a soft sigh and listens to what Mikayla tells him. "Oh," he says after the explanation. "That's good." Dammit Steve, stop making it so obvious. Lucky he's never had to go undercover in anything.

At the feel of her fingers gripping his, Steve instantly stops thinking about his weird thoughts toward the daemon. "You can take as long as you need to tell them see you later. I can see how hard it is to do that. You've been here so long and now. . ."

And now she's traveling with him to his home country.

As she continues to explain the few things that she's done, Steve starts to realize how much she's recently sacrificed. And for him? She's done these changes. . .with him? Had he really had that much of an effect on her? The thought is overwhelming yet amazing at once. Being the man that he is, he feels like he has a lot to live up to. If he turns out to be a failure, she might think that she did everything in vain.

I felt safe around you. . . I fought for you. . .

Steve looks down at her, tender emotion easily filling his gaze. He gives her a small smile. He moves his fingers so that he's gripping her hand instead. Then he returns her kiss with a gentle one of his own. Her last set of words open up that space in his chest that had been closed ever since he had awakened here.

"Mikayla. . ." Steve returns the smile and feels so many words swirl through his head. There are so many ways in which he wants to say what's on his mind. "I'd do so much for you. The fact that you. . .did all of this with me. . .for me. . ." He reaches up to take her other hand. "I'm fal- . . .I. . ." He stops and lets out a breath while releasing one of her hands. He chuckles in spite of himself. "You make me happy. You really do."

Wow, this is difficult yet wonderful for him.

"'Them'? Oh, please, I'm not telling the boys goodbye. My... 'relationship' with Marcus is rocky at best... and Scotch? Well... He's not good with farewells. It's not pretty seeing a proud and powerful creature like him sobbing. I'll see them again. Daemons can't die from age and Marcus... well, he's Marcus. He'll 'sleep' his way through any though spot..."

Those last words about the other vampyre were said with cold... hatred, almost. Like the man she hd appeared so happy to see only days prior had hurt her... badly enough to make her /still/ upset about it.

Such a good feeling filled her when he kissed her back, especially after that. How long had it been since she'd felt that? Two decades? Three? No more... but she had to control herself. He was a man, yes, but he was a special man... the kind that were erned. She was a new player to the game 'Heart Says'... and she figured she'd made it a few steps forward off the line. She didn't want to ruin that and attempt to start over. He'd already tolerated so much she had a hard time believing he was a mere mortal... She kept expecting something to happen... a white light, a Voice of Power... hell, she'd even accept wings.

She paused in her thoughts, a random giggle bubbling up. Here se was expecting Steve to be an anel or some sort of divine being and she'd used the word 'hell'. Even in her 'purest' thoughts she cursed.

Mikayla looked at him for a moment. Really looked at him... memorizing everything involving him. The tenderness in his eyes, his hand holing hers, the feeling of his lips from the kiss, his friendly, soothing scent, just hs presence. As he spoke, her smile softened and her eyes grew moist and bright. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, her ear right above his heart, listening to its strength in its beat. "Good," she said softly, but still loud enough he could hear. "I want you to be happy."

It made her happy. She held the embrace for a little bit, then finally stepped back, fixing his shirt. "You truly are a godsend Steve... you know that?"

She cleared her throat softly. "Well.. since I'll be saying 'see you later' to the mansion later, and already said them to Leonardo..."

She looked at him, holding his fingers again. "/You/ still have someone to talk to... You'll probably never see Cat again unless you visit in a few years. And I still need to visit Golden Gate. Would you like to walk with me or say it on your own time?"

The way that Mikayla speaks about Marcus causes Steve to grimace slightly. He considers commenting on that but then she giggles, which causes him to smile a bit. "What?" he says as she looks at him the way that she does. He feels a soft flush rise to his cheeks. "What's so funny?" He asks this just in time for her arms to wrap around him. He smiles and hugs her back. He lightly runs his hand up and down her back.

"I want you to be happy too, Mikayla," Steve whispers as he takes in the great feeling of having her so close to him. He holds her that entire time, not wanting to release her. But realistically there had to be a moment when one of them stepped back. So when she does, his face shows how unexpected her remark is about him. It touches him. He finds the words to be very meaningful. They resound deep within his chest.

"You're right," Steve says after she states those last sentences. "I won't see any of this for. . .a long time." He trails off for a moment because he wonders if he would actually ever return. If he joins the military, maybe it'll be possible. Without knowing what his duties will be though, it's hard to tell what he'll do in the future.

Steve can't lose himself to those thoughts now. He looks at Mikayla and steps forward to give her lips a quick kiss. He's slowly becoming more used to doing that and getting past his shyness. Besides, he really likes kissing her. Anyone might think that it'll have to do with the fact that he hasn't kissed a woman like that before and that he's curious about it all but Steve knows that it's way more than that.

There's tenderness and emotion behind his kisses.

"I would love to take a walk with you," Steve says afterward. "Sure, we spent all day together yesterday and we're going to be spending hours on a plane together but that doesn't mean that I'll get tired of being around you."

Steve chuckles slightly and takes her hand in full. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Oh, nothing... I was just thinking... With all you've done, all you've tolerated, I'm finding it hard to believe that you're just a mortal... I was thinking something would come through and prove you as a Divine... and even in those thoughts... I curse. I just thought it was funny..."

She smiled, and at that point in the hug, she squeezed him a little tighter. "I am happy... thanks to you." She was glad she could say that and mean it one hundred percent... She'd been happy before, but not entirely like this. He was really the only man she'd... taken interest in, that wasn't outwardly misogynistic... Even Marcus, when not in the presence of Scotch, Nevar, or modern folk, acted as a misogynist. She held a great respect for men like that... men from older times. Scotch was ancient, and treated her fair. The creature that had given Nevar had underestimated her at first... but had never doubted her, nor put her down. Her father had been like that as well, oddly enough. Her husbands had been half and half... she'd been lucky. And still counted herself so.

Mikayla nodded, then let a semi-sad smile appear. "That's if you ever see it again. Even if you do, I honestly doubt any of the living things here will be so anymore, as sad as that sounds. Horses don't live long... eighteen, nineteen years... to their twenties if they're lucky, late twenties if they're /very/ lucky. They're not parrots or... special ravens."

She cleared her throat softly, then smiled when she received a kiss from him, feeling her heart flutter. For a moment, she was tempted to lean in and really kiss him... but she didn't know how he'd take that, and she didn't want to chance a negative reaction. She would follow the babysteps he was taking, move at his pace, let him slowly ease out his comfort zone until he decided to venture outside on his own. So instead, she settled with a smile and a kiss of her own on his cheek, blinking and giggling at the slight red mark she'd left, reaching up and rubbing it off. "Whoops. I guess your skin liked my lipstick that much."

She looked down at their hands, her pale cheeks developing a soft pink tinge. "Those hours might be spent with me clutching onto you and muttering quick prayers... I know what you said... but I'm never going to trust something that flies six /miles/ up in the air and could easily kill us all if the slightest thing goes wrong... whether it be technical, natural, or supernatural..."

She hoped he didn't get tired or she didn't get trying for him. She felt that, even if he were to live forever because being frozen did something to him, she would never grow tired of his presence. She'd always get that giddy, like-drunk feeling... that warm, friendly, safe feeling that she'd never felt before... the feeling of just wanting to hold him forever and smile... and occasionally kiss. Okay, more than occasionally.

Mikayla then bit her lip. "Um. I need to change my shoes into something more... outside friendly. I'll be right back." She zipped off in a vampyric blur, a tiny gust of wind following half a second later, sucked closer by her speed.

Nevar croaked at him, and gave him this... look. A very human, knowing smirk. If he'd had eyebrows, he'd be waggling them, certainly, and he'd probably be giving the guy a hard time if he could talk. But he didn't have eyebrows, and as far as Steve knew he didn't have a voice, but the look was still clear - 'You are helplessly taken by that woman.' It was playful, of course, as it followed by the bird's 'chuckle' of croaks.

Then Mikayla's fingers were wrapped around his again, in such a way that just closing his hand would 'capture' hers. "Come on."

She led him outside, sighing, smiling when she heard the friendly neighs coming from their equine friends.

Steve seems a little surprised at what she first tells him. Divine? Wow. Honestly enough, he remembers when someone in his past once thought he was a god. It's an amusing thought to him and of course, it contrasts to his beliefs and faith. He gives Mikayla a smile afterward but he doesn't say much on the subject.

Thanks to him. . .thanks to him, she's happy. Steve holds her firmly and tries not to let his mind wander off toward the future. If he does that, he thinks that reality will just want to be cruel to him again. So he takes in the present moment and looks at Mikayla's face as that smile appears on her face. The thought really is a sad one. It's true. Those horses will probably be gone by the time he decides to return. Well, he'll come back, right. . .?

Not even he can say for sure. Everything is unpredictable.

At the kiss to his cheek, Steve chuckles. "I don't know if lipstick and my cheek look good together," he jokes. He pauses for a moment. "You can clutch onto me however long you want. It might make the flight better for me anyway." Since he's been in his share of planes, he isn't so weary. . .but he's aware of all the dangers that lie in being inside of one. Also, he has no idea how a modern plane might function. It can be completely different, for all that he knows.

Steve can't even remark to what she says because she disappears. He'll have to get used to her sudden departures, that's for sure. When the raven croaks, he looks at it. "What?" he says. He can see a sort of expression on the bird's face, which is why - in good humor - he remarks, "Oh, don't even start." Then more sounds spew forth from the raven: what sounds like a dry sort of chuckle. It causes Steve to redden very faintly. "She's a very -"

He doesn't finish the sentence because he feels that familiar hand take his fingers. He looks at her and clears his throat slightly. He starts to walk, hoping she didn't hear him start to speak about her. He closes his hand over hers as they continue toward the horses. The sound of the neighs causes him to smile too.


	11. The Day Before

Mikayla giggled softly. "I dunno. Let's go put some makeup on you, and see if they look good together like that." She smirked. If she knew him better she could think of some pretty 'evil' things to do to him while he slept. But she didn't know if he'd wake up or stay asleep during said things... she'd never slept in the same room with him so she didn't know how heavy or light he slept. He was up pretty quick that night when she screamed... but then again that was a /loud/ scream.

"Did you boys have an interesting conversation?"

She'd heard him... not his words but she knew that Steve had been speaking to Nevar. She figured he'd opened up if that was the case... But with the sound that came from the bird's throat, sounding like a creaky door, she learned she was wrong, and fought to control the wince of apology. The question was still valid, people asked that all the time. People talked to their animals all the time... wasn't it more fun to imagine that the sounds they made were actual intelligent responses?

The neighs turned into upset whinnies. The horses knew they were leaving, and weren't happy about it. Well, at the least, Golden Gate wasn't. Cat was just quiet and stayed further away from the gate than the palomino draft. The draft horse, though... he was very talkative about his situation, resting his neck on the short woman's shoulder, seeming to hug her between his jaw and massive chest. She sighed and smiled. "I'll miss you too, big guy... Hey, I'll keep in contact, okay? I'll have Scotch read my letters to you..."

Mikayla smiled softly when Cat approached Steve, lipping his cheek and hair softly and blowing out sweet hay on her breath. She shook her neck and her tail, nickering lowly. Nevar crowed and looked to the side, his feathers raised. He didn't like the horses much... but he stayed on Steve's shoulder, reaching around back to switch sides. He was certainly large enough to reach. The horse stayed around, resting her head on his other shoulder, snorting softly.

"I had a dog when I was younger... when I was still mortal. He wasn't meant to be a pet, he was meant for hunting and guarding... but we got along swell. He was very loyal and very fierce when I was threatened. I thought no animal could be more affectionate than him. That was until I got these three babies... Milk has a tendency to sulk, which is why he's not over here trying to get goodbyes from both of us. Golden Gate... well... I'd swear he was intelligent, with how much he shows. Cat's near the same... She'll miss you. /You/... not just yet another person to go riding on her. I'll be writing to Scotch every now and then... you should add something to each email or letter for Cat." She smiled softly. "It'd make her a happy horse, I'm sure. Same for you, you overgrown foal."

She pulled back and kissed the horse's velvety nose, stroking the long bridge, looking in his big brown eyes. She wrapped her arms around his nose, and started singing softly. It was pretty because she kept it low... but it definitely wasn't Italian. Nor English. It was uppity, with a beat that got the heart going a little faster, especially after she started patting out the drum beat on the horse's neck. It calmed the horses, though, making them just stand there calmly, Cat pressing her forehead to his chest, her ears moving a little bit.

When she was done, she cleared her throat, then smiled softly. "Want to know something a little funny? That song's about seaweed... Dúlamán."

To her initial question, Steve pauses. He swallows and nods his head once. "Yeah. . .of course." He chuckles lightly in spite of himself. Why does he have this feeling that she heard what he was about to say? And why does he feel like if she did hear, she would be able to complete the sentence?

When nothing more is said on the subject, Steve is a little relieved. He doesn't know why though. Mikayla does have the right to know what he feels about her. Maybe he can reserve that discussion for later. For now, he'll walk with her toward the horses that neigh and then whinny upon their arrival. They don't seem too happy at all. Of course. How can anyone blame them?

Steve watches Mikayla for a moment before turning to Cat, the horse who had immediately caught his attention before. It's this horse whose energy connected with his own. He smiles a little as his face is greeted by the horse. "Hey there," he says lowly, while stroking the side of her face. He briefly looks over at Nevar before shifting his attention back on Cat. He's going to miss her. He knows that much already. He can tell that there's tension between the horse and the bird but as long as there's no hostility, he'll be fine.

Steve listens to Mikayla and strokes Cat's mane and face even more. "I've never had a pet," he tells her. "I'll have to say that Cat's the closest." He looks toward the lonely Milk and hears how Cat is actually going to miss Steve. The horse is supposed to be so particular on who rides her. . .yet she let him. It's why he smiles again. "I'll miss you too. And I'll write. . .don't worry."

As Steve talks to the horse, he hears very soft singing coming from Mikayla. He can't help but look in her direction. Despite the fact that it's been so soft, he's always found her singing voice to be beautiful. He watches her until she's done. "Seaweed?" he remarks. "I never would have thought that there was something to sing about seaweed." He chuckles and strokes Cat's mane again.

Mikayla chuckled softly. "Well, the Irish obviously know something song-worthy about it."

She looked over at him after somehow pulling herself up on the massive animal's bare back, sitting side saddle so as not to destroy the dress a second time. "You know... I think she knew... I mean, animals can always sense things early. Why not emotions, feelings?" Her cheekbones went a little pink, but she pretended not to notice, letting them burn. So what? It was true... she hoped.

Cat nickered happily, tugging on his hair gingerly. She pressed her nose against his forehead, then her head against his chest again. She stayed like that as he stroked her mane, and Mikayla watched him, playing with the almost-white hair of her mount. Neither horse had been properly groomed after their arrival... "Would you mind helping me groom them? I'm sure Cat'd love it..."

She slid off the horse, holding her dress so it wouldn't ride up and expose any flesh. She tapped his chin, and the stallion turned, following her to the stable. She clicked at Milk and he followed as well. She strapped them both up outside, giving Steve a rope to secure Cat. Then she went inside. She was in for a few minutes, and when she came back she was... changed. In a different outfit, that is. Instead of that dress, she was in leg-hugging jeans and a white button up top. It wasn't buttoned, though. Instead, she'd tied the corners up. A fair amount of her stomach was showing, but it had also started getting warmer with the sun right down on them. It was only the beginning of fall, after all, and warm days liked to sneak up from behind.

She hooked a bucket of supplies on the fence. Mostly it was a bunch of brushes, but there were also some hoofpicks in there. "Come on, I'll show you..." And she did. How to brush, and how to pick. Cat was a little tentative on letting him pick, but calmed down soon enough.

"And on warmer days like this," she added, as it had gotten warm enough that beads of sweat were sliding down her face and tummy, "they enjoy getting sprayed."

She grabbed a hose, and twisted the nozzle, then let the water fly. Milk and Cat whinnied in appreciation and tossed their heads, but Golden Gate just stood there, eyes closed, his golden coat gleaming once it was wet.

Steve listens to her words and for some reason, he almost starts to feel blood rush to his cheeks too. It's why he briefly looks away. He chuckles lightly at how the horse tugs on his hair. He strokes his fingers through her mane again and then looks back at Mikayla. "Sure. It seems like it'll be my first time doing a lot of things around you, Mikayla." He chuckles again.

Steve's eyes manage to land on her legs as she slides off the horse. He quickly turns away and clears his throat lightly. He's been looking at her different lately, in ways that he doesn't understand, which isn't unusual by now. His mind strays from these thoughts as she leaves. When she's gone, he secures Cat and makes sure that the rope very well is secure.

Now Mikayla doesn't help Steve's recent case when she steps out in her other outfit. He looks from the jeans to her top. The glimpse of her stomach doesn't cause him to turn away as would usually occur. He manages to look at her face and swallow once. She's become appealing in a different way and it makes him feel. . .different. He doesn't get much time to think on it though because they get to work.

Steve watches Mikayla and learns how to brush, pick, and whatever is required to groom a horse. He does as she does and gets used to it pretty quickly. As the time passes, he feels himself sweat too but not so much since his body reacts differently. He looks at her and laughs lightly. "I think anyone would enjoy getting sprayed."

Steve has already unbutton his shirt by now but left it hanging on his shoulders. He thought that even he can take the heat but it proves to be rough. When she grabs the hose he laughs more at the horse's reactions. Wow, never would he have thought that he would be so attached to horses. His eyes move toward Golden Gate who either seems calm or still sad.

Hopefully the horse isn't too saddened by the whole thing, although Steve wouldn't be surprised.

Mikayla smiled softly, a teasing look on her face. "Is that such a bad thing?"

She arched a brow at his words, looking over at him. "Is that so?" When she looked, she paused, seeing the skin through his shirt. Then she grinned devilishly and turned the hose toward him, spraying him briefly. She turned it away from him and back to the horses before he got too wet, though... and she looked sort of envious. But she didn't want to spray herself, knowing what water did to her... it really did make her envious, looking at the cool water run down his skin and knowing she wouldn't be able to enjoy it in the same way. 'Of all the things to burn me...'

She threw a smirk at him, then turned the hose off, laughing softly at the snorts from the two younger horses. She rubbed Golden Gate's nose as she passed by, giving it a kiss, then turned off the water at the source. She beckoned to Steve, then turned the sprinklers on and released the horses. Cat and Milk ran around in them, but the draft didn't. He just walked up to Mikayla and rested his nose against her forehead. She sighed. "I'll miss you too, big guy... I really will." Her voice cracked slightly around some tears, and she cleared her throat, before grabbing a brush and going through his mane again, before braiding it.

"We're leaving a little early, so, um... I'll send Nevar in for you in case you're not up." Or maybe she'd wake him herself... what was better in the morning than waking up to finding your lips connected to someone else's? Or even better, a cuddle? She nearly chuckled aloud thinking about what he might and might not do. But just that made it official... she wouldn't be sending Nevar in. She'd be waking him up herself, most likely with some breakfast again. She disliked being in the kitchen anymore, but she liked cooking for him, which was worth it.

She looked up at him, and got the sudden urge to lean in and kiss him, not sure if it was the lips of the cheek she was aiming for. But as soon as she started to, she heard Nevar make that displeased sound, so she instantly looked to the door, almost looking like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Marcus was standing in the doorway, almost looking a little hurt. He knew what she'd wanted to do. He cleared his throat softly, then held out a paper bag. "Your... tickets..."

Mikayla took it and opened it up, looking in. There were the tickets alright, but there was also something else in it. She couldn't tell exactly, but it looked like a piece of paper folded neatly in thirds. She caught a letter, a very neat 'M', and her eyes flashed. She pulled the tickets out, then discarded the bag on the floor, smiling at him. "Thank you for bringing them."

His eyes showed even more hurt when she simply threw the bag and the folded paper down. But he forced a smile out and nodded, clearing his throat before turning and walking back to the house.

She looked at the tickets, then frowned when the paper floated in front of her, seeing her shadow holding it up. Her eyes flashed again. "No, I don't want to read anything from him..." She snatched it roughly, then sighed, straightened it out, and put all three back in the bag. "... not right now..."

Steve is in the middle of watching the horses enjoy themselves when he himself gets hosed briefly. "Hey now - " He starts to say. He chuckles a little bit and looks straight at Mikayla. "Now was that called for?" He's actually a little thankful since it's incredibly hot outside. It's a shame that he can't seek any type of revenge on her. He remembers what water can do to her. That briefly takes him back to the conversation they had in the kitchen a few days ago.

He doesn't think long on it though.

Moments later, Steve walks toward Mikayla when she beckons to him. He watches the horses for some time and then sees her reaction when interacting with Golden Gate. It's a touching scene. It really is and he somewhat feels guilty because if he hadn't asked her to come with him, she wouldn't have to leave the horses. She did agree to come along though and that's made him really happy. . .despite all the saddening goodbyes.

Steve nods to what she says next. "Sounds good. He seems to be a good alarm clock." He laughs lightly and looks at her again. He manages to catch her gaze. It's almost as if their energies connect at that moment because he too starts to lean toward her. Then he instantly stop and flushes a little, especially after seeing Marcus there.

Awkwardness doesn't even start to describe the feeling that goes through Steve. He almost wants to turn and leave them. Marcus's expression doesn't help the case. Steve almost even excuses himself but he manages not to do so as the exchange of words occur between the two near him.

Steve's eyes follow the bag's path to the floor. He looks at it briefly before turning his glance back to the scene. As a man, he can read Marcus's face, which causes the awkward feeling to skyrocket. He takes a step back in time with Marcus's exit.

"Should I. . .leave you alone?" It's the only thing he can ask as he watches Mikayla. Steve almost doesn't even know what to think of this. He doesn't want to interrupt or be in the middle of whatever emotional happenings are at hand.

Mikayla grinned softly, nodding. "Of course it was called for. You liked it, too, don't lie."

She cleared her throat at his question, sighing deeply. "I... don't especially want to be alone right now, but... if you would like to leave you can..." She just didn't want to be given time to think on what she'd just done. He'd hurt her plenty, cheating on her after seven decades... but she could imagine what she'd done was, in a way, worse... especially with how she acted around him when she'd first met Steve. As if nothing was wrong. It was the happiest she'd seen the man in thirty years. She had, unintentionally, given him false hopes that he'd ever have another chance with her... seeing them like that, and then her simply discarding the letter or whatever it was he'd written, had crushed them. She was okay with the cold shoulder and the minimal contact. But she was not okay with doing that to him.

"I, um... I need to go apologize to him. That was wrong of me..." Her hand found his fingers. She would never get over only taking a couple. She seemed almost hesitant to go, like she was a little scared of confronting the large vampyre alone. Was she to blame? It would be the same as a human version of her confronting Steve... if Steve had anger issues, and a particularly easily-crushed humanity.

She squeezed his fingers, then started walking back toward the house. "Nevar, you stay with Steve... I don't need you adding fuel to the fire."

The large raven had been about to take off from the hitching post he'd roosted on. He clacked his beak in confusion, worry showing in his eggshell blue eyes. He crouched and spread his wings, willing to disobey her this one time, but a glare from her made him stop, and droop a little. It was a little disconcerting, seeing a bird - no matter how special - _that_ worried for his master, who was simply going to apologize to someone.

Being new to everything overall, Steve stands there, trying to think of what he should do. Now if this was a war plan or a battlefield, he would be extremely assertive. This is a whole new category though. It's one where he's lost, standing in the center, not knowing which way to go.

"I. . .I won't leave," Steve tells her after she talks. She might need space but she also might need someone beside her. It's a dilemma but he decides not to go. He just waits for her to say or do something, if anything at all. He can ask one of the thousands of questions in his head but he doesn't want to push the matter.

Something tells him that he might not like what he hears.

Steve glances down at her hand doing that all too familiar gesture. He then looks at her again. "Alright," he tells her. "I'll wait for you here then." He reaches up to briefly brush her cheek. He can see that she's someone fighting with herself, as if she's thinking of whether or not she should go. He can't offer to go with her. This is a private matter.

Steve watches the interaction between Nevar and Mikayla. Damn, he's really curious about the history between these three. He can only assume that he might get his answers later. He swallows once and turns away after she delivers that glare to the bird. Nevar obviously knows a lot more than Steve does about the situation. The way that the raven reacts causes an uneasy feeling to go through the one called Captain America.

In case of anything, Steve will be perceptive of his surroundings. Not that Marcus will hurt her. . .right?

The window of Marcus' room was visible from the stable. So if he felt like it, he could keep an eye on them, as the curtains were half drawn and both individuals were usually showing. Mikayla was simply sitting with her back to the window, and Marcus was pacing back and forth. She was in there for about thirty minutes, Marcus storming about and obviously yelling, occasionally throwing a pillow or something small that she could catch at her... though she didn't catch them, merely let them hit and fall. Then the atmosphere heated up - she stood, and tried to circle around him, but he stopped her and backed her against the window, yelling at her more and punching the glass to each side of her head. Then he stopped, and turned, walking back into the room. Mikayla sighed, then yelped in surprise when the cracks erupted and the glass shattered in a heart beat. Nevar croaked loudly and shrilly, nearly falling in his haste to take off and try and get to her.

However, being a vampyre, she had quick reflexes. While she couldn't prevent the start of the fall, she could stop it prematurely. She reached forward, grabbing a part of the window, sliding down and slicing her hand. But she didn't fall. She climbed down, clutching her hand in a tight fist to try and slow the blood flow, quickly ripping the greater majority of her shirt off and using it to cover the wound, leaving her in sleeves and an extra two inches of shirt. The rest of her stomach, her chest, and her bra were visible. She sighed, and made her way over to the stable, going to the basin sink in the back. "Well... that definitely could've gone better... I guess it's a good thing we're leaving tomorrow morning."

She looked over at him, and smiled. It was a true smile, too. She wasn't sad she'd done that, so now it was off her chest. This just gave her more reason not to forgive him. But acting as if nearly falling from a second story window was nothing probably wasn't the most reassuring thing. She sighed, running the water over her hand, trying to see how bad the cut was and if there was anything in it. "Damn... this was my only button up, too..."

Mikayla shut the water off, then pulled a first-aid kit out, quickly tending to it before it got too bloody again, then wrapped it in a thin layer of gauze. It would be gone within a few hours, why waste supplies? She turned and wrapped her arms around Steve, listening to his heart for a little bit, calming hers down. "I'm sorry about him... I didn't think he'd do that. I'd hoped he'd behave... I'm sorry you had to see that. And I'm sorry if you saw my little accident..."

She stayed close, still using him to calm down, smiling when Nevar landed on her shoulder and rested against them both, his little heart beating rapidly. She shrugged him off. "No third wheels," she said softly, finally pulling back from the embodiment of safety that was Steve, looking up at his face.

Steve stands around and then walks away after a few moments. He'll be watching now and then just in case. After about a half hour, he stares toward the window and narrows his eyes. What is Marcus doing?

Steve doesn't like where this is going. He takes a step forward, waiting to leap up toward the window. Marcus is probably stronger and faster but Steve will do anything in his power to make sure that man doesn't get physical with Mikayla. No. . .not in front of him.

When glass shatters, Steve starts forward but something about Nevar causes him to hesitate. He can't leave the bird here either. It might make things worse if the raven flies after him. And during this thinking process, Mikayla falls out the window but lands just fine. She's bleeding though.

Steve clenches his fist and glances up toward the window where Marcus was. Any man that hurts a woman deserves to be put in his place. He would have mindlessly gone up there but interacting with Mikayla is much more important. He walks with her and sees her tend to herself.

"Mikayla. . ." Steve says. "That was terrible. I don't want to stay away from you the rest of our time here." He listens to what she says and is also glad they're leaving soon.

Steve instantly wraps his arms around her in return. He then lands his gaze in hers and increases his hold to a more protective one. He wants to smile but he doesn't. He looks down at her and realizes how torn her outfit is. When seeing her chest, he refrains from flushing more because he's concerned. "Perhaps you'd want to change out of that," he says softly, stroking her back.

Mikayla sighed softly, then chuckled. "Well... you're going to have to stay away from me tonight... But our rooms are only about fifty feet apart, so I should be safe. I don't think Marcus would try anything, anyway... not with you and Scotch around."

She trembled as his hand moved along her back, keeping herself from jerking away. She enjoyed the feeling. "I, um... don't really feel like putting that dress back on... I'll change when I dare go inside again... or when my hand is healed. Whichever happens first. I don't... trust him when I'm hurt." She felt a little smile tug on her lips. "If... if it bothers you that much, though, I'll change." She looked up at him for an answer, one hand rubbing his chest subconsciously.

She was just glad that he'd changed her. Had he not, she would probably be braless, which would have been /so/ much more awkward and embarrassing. However... then, she probably would've just ripped the whole shirt off, instead of just most of it. She didn't mind showing her body off then, no matter who it was around. She was still proud of it... but now who saw it mattered.

"I... I think I might have another shirt in the back. I'll go check..."

Again, she seemed hesitant to leave him, as she didn't move for a good ten seconds, the fingers of her good hand finding his. Then she pressed a ghost of a kiss against his neck as she slowly pulled out of his arms, walking around him. She pulled the rest of that shirt off, her bare back - save a thin strip of material that made up the main strap of her bra - now exposed. She grabbed the dress just in case there wasn't a shirt, and headed to the back of the stable. When she came out, however, it was obvious she'd found a shirt as she was wearing it. It was much too big for her - it even looked like it would've been too big for Steve - but it covered her. "I feel like I'm swimming in fabric, but it works for now, no?"

Seeing the fact that she isn't reacting negatively, Steve smiles very softly. It's going to take him a little bit to get over what he just finished seeing. To her comment, he almost says that he doesn't want to but instead of saying that, he remains silent for now. He feels somewhat better when she tells him that Marcus might not try anything with the two men nearby.

Steve moves his hand once more down her back and wants to remark again when she mentions how she doesn't want to be around Marcus when she's hurt. Just how abusive is he? He doesn't want to know the answer. He knows it'll cause him to react very rash. "Actually. . ." He looks down at her once more and quickly moves his eyes back to her face. Subconsciously, he feels a lot more soothed with her hand rubbing his chest. ". . .you don't have to change. . .if -"

Steve doesn't get his chance to finish. Mikayla mentions the other shirt. He keeps close to her as she takes his fingers. Then he feels a small tingle on his neck as she leaves the kiss there. He doesn't want her to go now but. . .

. . .he doesn't even realize that he's staring at her when she removes the shirt. Some people might not understand it, considering the fact that his manners are seventy years old. Still, men of that period were still men and when they became comfortable enough around a woman. . .

No, that can't be it. Is this actually happening to Steve? He looks away, almost unable to believe that he's not uncomfortable with her being dressed that way and instead actually doesn't mind looking when she's not noticing of course. The sight of her bare back. . .it's just. . .beautiful.

When Mikayla walks out in the shirt, Steve holds back a chuckle. "Oh no," he says. "You should have just stayed in the other one. This. . . I don't even know what to call this." He steps forward and gets a closer look at it. ". . .but if this works for you. . ."

Mikayla giggled softly. "It makes me feel like a little girl again. I wore one of my **_babbo's_** shirts as a nightgown for years. I could wear this as a nightgown if I wanted."

She then arched a brow. Should have just stayed with the other one? The true size of the shirt was revealed when it was capable of just sliding off when she pulled her shoulders and arms in, like a dress once the straps were off the shoulders. Now... well, she might as well have been wearing the shirt, just with more of her arms and shoulders showing. Now she stood in front of him in jeans and her bra. "Is this more aesthetically pleasing, Steve?"

A teasing smile touched her lips. She reached down and stepped out of the shirt to pick it up, walking to the side, a little away from him, her back once again facing him. Then _she_ was facing him. Her stomach was just as smooth and flat-looking as her back, with the exception of her navel and the two gentle swells a little higher, hidden away behind the solid black material of her bra.

"Because I have to say... I certainly feel a lot cooler. You should ditch the shirt, too."

Mikayla chuckled, folding up the massive shirt and putting it on the shelf. "Scotch will probably be looking for that... he's the largest man I have ever seen, in the sense that 'large' doesn't mean overweight."

She sighed, looking at the shirt, then turning and looking at him, seeming completely at ease despite the very faint pink on her cheeks.

Steve laughs a little bit. "You can," he answers. "It's just not time for bed yet." He teases her with that last statement. He really isn't going to argue with her if she decides to stay in that oversized shirt that he knows will fit loosely even on him.

When the shirt slides off though, Steve has to hold back his natural reaction. The heat returns and her question prevents him from looking at places other than her face. "It. . .it seems more comfortable for you." He stands there and can't help but watch as she makes her next motions. He's vaguely familiar with the slight sensuality of some 40s actresses but that was only on film. This is a woman right in front of him with so much bare skin that seems so pristine in the sunlight.

The reactions that Steve experiences are not familiar at all. He almost feels powerless, as though she can tell him to do anything and he'd do it without question. Her words distract him, fortunately. He looks back at her face. "I'm sure it is cooler like that. I. . ." He stops and decides not to finish the sentence. He does hesitate for a second before sliding the shirt right off his back.

Steve watches her put the shirt away and doesn't remark about Scotch since he still feels uneasy toward him. He meets Mikayla's glance and asks, "And what's next on the to-do list?" He chuckles a little bit.

Mikayla nodded. "Unfortunately. I wish it was, though. We'd be that much closer to leaving." Nope... it was only about three in the afternoon at that point.

She blinked, watching him, looking mildly surprised. "Huh... I honestly didn't expect you to do that..."

She was having a hard time not looking at him, her eyes tracing every mountain and valley of muscle. She walked back over, her hips swinging a little bit, then put her hand to his chest. His skin was pleasantly warm, hers like the touch of a damp cloth to him. For a moment, she just rubbed, letting her fingers do their thing and feel... then she leaned close, resting her head against his chest, listening to his heart. She was acting as if she'd never felt this much skin-on-skin contact before, even though they both knew she'd felt even more. For some reason, with him, it was different.

"Next...? Um..." They'd both said their goodbyes... they were packed and ready... "I don't know... can't think of anything." She looked up at him. "Is there anything you'd like to do before we're gone and all jet-lagged and looking for a place to stay?" She chuckled. It was a good thing there wasn't too much stuff... when she got drowsy and thrown off her normal feeling, she liked to just sleep it away until she woke up refreshed. A suitcase or two each could easily just sit by as she got back to normal. She didn't know if it affected the man in front of her.

Now that she points it out, Steve is a bit surprised that he just took off his shirt like that too. He had been caught in the moment and had been, as stated, powerless in front of her. Never having experienced this before, he's not sure what to do. He does know though, that he enjoys the thrill.

Steve stands there, feeling his heartbeat increase in pace as she practically sashays right on over to him. "I. . .I just wanted to be a little cooler." Delayed reaction in response. That's for sure.

As she sets a hand on his chest, Steve slides an arm around her. He just enjoys holding her and having her close. Her rubs never fail to soothe him. Only this time. . .they do something else to him that doesn't lie within familiar ground.

Steve starts to run his hand down her back but hesitates because of how much skin is exposed to his fingers. He keeps his hand on the center and listens to what she tells him. He glances back at her and thinks.

Steve then breaks eye contact with her to look around. "Is there a body of water nearby?" He grins a little and faces her once more.

Mikayla arched a brow. "Oh, is that it? You just wanted to be cooler? Nothing to do with the fact that a half- naked woman just asked you to get half-naked with her, then. Okay." She grinned up at him, then kissed his chest, neck, cheek, and finally his lips, her hands making their way to his shoulders, still rubbing.

She trembled slightly as he rubbed her back again. That was her comfort - not just from him, either. Anyone could rub her back and she'd become quiet and gentle and possibly fall asleep. She was just glad she wasn't incredibly ticklish along her spine, only mildly, or she'd be squirming in his grasp. Like most people, she was ticklish around her sides and bikini line... but unlike most men, she knew she had some time before his hands would go there.

She looked at him as she thought about his question, mentally pulling up a map of a five mile area around Massa. "Um... there's a lake about half a mile northeast of here. Then the ocean a few hours away. Why?" She listened to his heart a little more, but the contact with him was producing sweat. She pulled away from him, adjusting her bra a little bit as she walked over to the equipment, putting it away properly, getting a cloth and wiping the leather down.

"Either way, we'll have to ride again. Won't take too long, though. Horses can cover half a mile in no time. Hell, we could cover half a mile in no time, as well. But unless you feel like running, we'll have to ride." She looked at him over her shoulder. "Unless you've learned how to fly."

A small amount of redness finds Steve's cheeks at her first comment. He controls that though and is actually able to be playful in return. "No," he says with a small grin. "It has nothing to do with that at all." He can't let the awkwardness always get to him, regardless of whether or not he knows what to do in the situation.

Steve lets the small number of tingles glide through and under his skin as she kisses upward and finds his lips. Always enjoying to do so, he returns the kiss and thinks about how much more meaningful each of these kisses have become to him. It only causes him to want to get closer to her. . .perhaps in more ways than one. He wouldn't really know that if he was asked though. It's more of a subconscious thing for now, considering his status with women.

Steve keeps her in his hold, appreciating his closeness as he frequently does. "The lake sounds fine," he answers. He chuckles lightly. "Maybe I just want to take a look at it." He grins softly and then watches as she pulls away from him. His eyes briefly - and very briefly - find their way to where her hands are adjusting. Then he quickly glances back at her face.

Watching her still, Steve says, "Even though, it'll be entertaining to run there, I guess riding on horseback again shouldn't be so bad." He'll definitely be able to run the entire distance but he knows he'll never be able to keep up with her. He's witnessed her speed and it's way beyond his.

Mikayla chuckled softly at him. "Just look at a lake. Okay, that sounds loads of fun." She smirked softly as she whistled for the horses. Golden Gate was almost instantly there, staring her her. She smiled, and stroked his nose, leading him outside while leaving the other two in. "Alright. Maybe we can be a tad bit friendlier while you look at the water."

She looked back at him, looking him over, chewing on her lip. "We're riding bareback. I, um... I know you like Cat, but she has a habit of wandering off..." And she had no intentions of horse sitting when alone with Steve. She pulled herself up on the animal, without stirrups or anything, as if he was a pony, sitting on his back. "So, uh... it would be better if we doubled on Golden Gate."

Mikayla helped him up onto the back of the draft stallion, and he snorted, not used to having anyone else on his back. But he didn't protest, instead, turned on his own and headed toward the gate, walking. "Grip with your knees, and hold onto something if you need to."

She reached down and opened the gate, then pushed it completely open. She tapped her feet against Golden Gate's round stomach, and he nickered, and started moving, headed right into a gallop. She rubbed the side of his neck until he was going in the right direction, then let him run. It would only take him a few minutes to get there... two or three. It was a different thing, riding bareback. The illusion of safety came with the saddle and bridle, same as the illusion in a car with the seat belt and steering wheel. When you took that away... it made the ride better, made you have to feel one with the animal. Soon, the lake was visible, surrounded thickly by trees, the strong plants thinned down a little at one point, making access possible. She slowed Golden Gate down to a walk, and let him weave through them, until finally they were walking on the sandy gravel 'beach'. "Well, here we are. Go ahead and start your looking." She chuckled softly.

Steve grins a bit. "Yeah. . .sightseeing. It's the way to go." He looks toward Golden Gate as soon as he arrives. The magnificence of that horse will never cease to amaze him. He has to admit that he'll definitely miss these horses more than he thought he would. He's established a connection with them that's new to him. He's never been this close to animals. He never had the chance to back in his time.

Steve looks back at Mikayla and pauses. He would have been glad to ride Cat but he can see her point in this. That's why he nods. "Alright. Hope he doesn't mind." He steps closer to the horse and gives him a light pat. He's heard different things about riding bareback but he can't remember them all. Back in 40s New York, people don't go around talking about horses much.

With Mikayla's help, Steve gets on the back of the horse and listens to the instructions. He readies himself and manages a good enough grip as they ride off toward the lake. They get there a lot faster than he thought. It had been a thing to get used to - riding bareback and all but he had been able to get through it. Riding this horse shirtless with a half-dressed woman is also something that Steve wouldn't have imagined himself doing.

But here he is. . .

Once they're there, Steve dismounts and looks over at her. "Oh, I will. I heard the view is better over here though." He gets closer to the lake until he's inches away from the water. Then he removes his shoes and is about to do the same to his pants but he stops himself and decides to leave them on. He glances back at Mikayla with a small smile before moving forward and stepping into the lake.

Mikayla watched as Steve went to take a dip, almost making a disappointed face when his pants stayed on his body. She had a feeling he'd wanted to swim. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, staying on the horse as he stepped forward and took a drink from the cool water. If only it wasn't cool. Then she'd be able to swim again, like she had when she was still human. If she even remembered how. Not swimming for six centuries could easily do that to you.

"How's the water feel?" she asked from pretty much right above him, leaning ever so slightly to get a better look. She had turned around on Golden Gate, sitting Indian style while facing behind him. She jerked and gasped when the big horse blundered forward into the water, sounding happy as the cool water lapped at his pelt. Mikayla, however, was looking a little timid. Well, more like scared. Her 'island' of safety was shrinking as the horse got into deeper water and started to swim, his powerful muscles and movements causing the water to lap and cover his back completely.

Golden Gate turned his neck sharply as he turned, and splashed her. She gasped, and waited for the pain of getting burned... but didn't feel any. She opened her eyes, and blinked. She was wet, no doubt about that... but she wasn't burning her. Confused, a happy smile spread her lips. That meant she could swim. She directed Golden Gate back to shore, then pulled her boots off, setting them about five feet from the water's edge. Then she shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her in just her underclothes... which weren't incredibly covering, put together. She urged Golden Gate back out into the water, which he was happy to do, then slid off his back and sighed. "Wow... I forgot how good swimming felt..."

When Steve reaches the deeper portion of the lake, he dives down out of pure nostalgia. He used to do this back in his day. It's his main reason for wanting to go swimming. He does feel bad that it leaves Mikayla out but he doesn't plan to stay in very long. Perhaps he can dry off by taking a stroll with her through the trees. He actually wouldn't mind that at all, now that he thinks of it.

Steve emerges from the water's surface in time to hear her question. "Great," he says. "Pretty cool too." He smiles a bit and starts to swim forward. He feels a little worse now. Maybe his time should be up.

Before he can decide that though, he sees Golden Gate's reaction. Steve starts to swim forward to attempt to rescue Mikayla before the water touches her skin. Right when he gets close enough, he realizes that the splashes don't do anything to her. He looks at her, confused. Didn't. . .didn't she show him how water burned her? How is this happening now?

Steve wants to ask that out loud but at the sight of her happy smile, he lets the question go. He places on a small smile of his own and watches her for a moment. He turns so that he can dive right back under but then he catches her getting out of her jeans. Oh now this really does it for him. . .despite the fact that he wants to turn away out of respect.

Despite the coolness of the water, Steve feels the heat through his body, generated by the rush of blood. It seems like this all lasts for many seconds but his gaze on her remains for only a moment or two before he actually does turn away. He's about to dive in again so that he can collect himself but then he hears what she says.

"It's so great to see that you're able to," Steve says, getting his mind off how he was reacting. He looks back at her and offers another small smile.

Mikayla grinned, and for a few moments, just swam for the sake of swimming, something she hadn't done in centuries. She swam as though she had fins - fast and smooth and graceful, like a freshwater dolphin. Then she surfaced behind him, her arms snaking around his chest so she didn't push him down, even though she seemed to not affect his buoyancy at all. She looked over his shoulder with a grin on her face. "Hey... I can smell that, you know."

She giggled, and kissed him, playfully biting his lip before pulling back, nipping at his ear softly as well. Her lips traveled down his neck, then across his shoulders, her fingers sliding back to rub his sides, then his back, before she swam around in front of him, moving as fluidly as the water she was in. She gripped his hips with her knees, and pulled herself close, the cold water affecting certain parts of her body through the thin fabric, pressed against his chest. Even though she was clutched onto him, she still didn't cause him to sink any further.

"Hey there, mister." She grinned. Her skin glistened because she was wet, her hair slicked back and floating on the water in serpentine locks. For a moment, as she looked in his eyes, hers innocent but alluring at the same time, it was almost as if he was holding a porcelain doll. But that illusion was broken as she leaned forward to kiss him, pulling herself even closer. Scents like that made her act accordingly for a bit... no matter who it was on the receiving end.

Steve smiles a little bit as she swims around. He's glad to see that she's enjoying herself. It's very relieving to know that the water doesn't affect her negatively. At least for now it doesn't. The mystery doesn't have to be explained. He lets it go as he too starts to swim around. Once again, he gets ready to dive under but then he feels her arms slide around him so smoothly.

Steve freezes in his spot, attempting control. To her words, he turns his head a little to look at her through an angle. ". . .what? Smell what?" Of course he has no clue as to what she's talking about. He doesn't get the chance to find out because their lips clash. He kisses her in return and those tingles make their way back over his skin upon feeling the bite to his lip.

Steve thinks it's going to stop there but then she nips his ear and her lips find their way down his neck and along the bare skin of his shoulders. He closes his eyes for a moment as all of these sensations occur through touch alone. So many nerves react along his body and affect the receptors that transform all of this into that thing called pleasure. Her hands, her lips. . .this is all so surreal right now. He obviously enjoys it but. . .what to do?

Steve opens his eyes to look at her as she swims in front of him and grips him by the hips. His gaze doesn't leave hers, even as she gets so close to him. He remains afloat, speechless amongst other things. He feels that he should react to this but it takes him by surprise. She looks so beautiful and so. . .seductively deadly.

Finally, Steve grins back a little and sets his hands on her hips. He has to stay cool, remain calm. Act like you're in a warzone, Steve. You should be fine. "Hey," he responds, looking at the difference in her appearance. Before he can take it in even further, another kiss occurs. This time he does respond, kissing her back and moving one hand from her hip so that his arm can wrap around her as she pulls herself closer.

For now. . .Steve is able to act accordingly.

A grin showed in Mikayla's eyes when he started responding. Stay calm? At that moment, thinking the way she was after getting hit by that scent, she didn't want him calm, but excited. She didn't stop to realize he'd probably get nervous and stop her when her current intentions were made clear...

She kissed him again, deeper than the last, letting go of his hips for a moment so that she slid down, their waists even. As she kissed him more, she started moving, rubbing against him ever so slightly, her hands rubbing his pectorals and shoulders.

"You know what," she replied in a voice as smooth and thick as melted chocolate, enticing to the appropriate sense. She grinned, biting her lip. "I smelled you as soon as my jeans dropped... I smelled how much you liked seeing that, even if you don't realize you did."

Her lips went to his throat a few times before finding his lips again, still moving against him. It'd be a while before sense and consideration for him came back to her.

Steve feels the kiss deepen. He manages to keep up with it, even as she slides down along him. He still holds her against him, taking in the sensations of her rubs that are ever so gratifying. Then. . .she moves against him. Another surge of heat blasts through him, despite the coolness of the water.

Before Steve can react to it at all, Mikayla talks to him. He attempts to catch his breath, even as his heart starts to beat faster through his chest. Her words cause a deeper flush to his face. He parts his lips in attempt to respond.

"I. . . Mikayla. . ." Steve doesn't get the chance to say anything because his mind becomes wrapped around the amazing feeling he gains as a result of her lips to his throat. He closes his eyes in an attempt to gain control but then she kisses him again.

The fact that she still moves against him causes Steve to intensify the kiss more than he thought he would. His hands return to her hips as the moments tick by. No, innocent Steve isn't completely clear on her intentions because for now he's focused on the current actions and he goes along with them.

. . .for now.

Mikayla couldn't help but let out a little moan when he was the one to make the kiss better. Her grinding intensified a little, but with them being in the water, it was hard to apply the amount of pressure she was trying to. So, she manipulated the shadows beneath and behind, making it feel more like she'd backed him up against a wall in a shallow pool, providing a surface... you guessed it, beneath and behind. That was when the pressure applied at the hips _really_ became noticeable.

It was making her act even 'worse'. Her heart rate was faster, as was her breathing, and her kisses were more heated, some long lasting and 'gentle', some more brief and rough, usually ending with a bite or a tug. Her fingers started rubbing differently - instead of the soothing, she was making contact in such a way that it excited... and her hands started slowly wandering south from his shoulders, rubbing and caressing on their way down.

A tiny, tiny voice in her head was telling her to stop... before something happened that could ruin everything. But there were many more encouraging voices - those thirty-year dormant voices of lust - that were telling her to try different things: 'How far can your hands get?' 'Kiss deeper. Kiss different... bite him.'

Then that started playing more. 'Bite him'. She'd bitten him already... but she didn't know if her venom had done anything. She didn't know if he'd felt pain or the pleasure it was supposed to trick the brain into producing. And if the venom /did/ work on him... what would he do while 'intoxicated'? It was like a drug, it prevented truly rational thinking, only allowing thoughts involving pleasure until it had faded. It was a lot like she was thinking now...

She gave in... slowly. Her lips broke from his, and traveled down to his throat, trembling slightly from what she'd been doing to him. She kissed the tender flesh several times, then bit it gently, careful not to pierce with her fangs. She bit a few more times, threw in another kiss... then went to actually _bite_. Her fangs scraped against his skin, the venom oozing from the holes in the back touching his skin, making it feel more like she'd just kissed him again.

Steve tries his best to keep up with the intensified kiss that he himself had initiated. She kisses him so passionately, like fire. . .wild fire that spreads over each nerve ending and slowly awakens something within him. His heart thunders in his chest in a combination of nervousness and excitement. He's a man all for tender and loving kisses and touches. This. . .this is so different.

But it's thrilling at the moment.

Feeling Mikayla's grinding causes the fire's effect to intensify. That's nothing compared to when he feels the makeshift floor or wall. The powerful grinding now causes the flames to travel southward along his body.

No. . .it shouldn't be happening this way. Steve wants to slow down as he feels so many different sensations throughout every part of him. He's about to express this until Mikayla stops the kiss. . .and goes for his throat. If her sensual touches had a passionate effect on him, this just almost sent him over the edge.

Steve closes his eyes and actually presses her a little closer to his neck. He releases a couple slow yet heavy breaths. This really does feel as though they're in a cool location where she's pressed him against the wall so seductively. Being inexperienced, there's a part of him that's also curious. . .

She bites him. . .so many times. It causes the faintest sound of pleasure to rumble in his throat. Steve's hands stay at her waist. And when her fangs pierce his flesh. . .he releases a long sigh.

The instant feel of ecstasy causes Steve to roam his strong hands up and along Mikayla's sides. He's affected, even gripping her by the hair for a moment. . .

. . .but it wears off and comes back in quick successions. Why? Well, Captain America is immune to toxins. His cells are constantly reproducing and cleansing at rapid rates. But with Mikayla still biting him, the venom keeps flowing, causing him to touch her, hesitate, and then touch her again in sporadic intervals.

It's like two sides fighting within the innocent Steve.

Those intervals were driving Mikayla crazy, little yips of pleasure and soft, tiny moans escaping her lips. But she'd heard that sound - that faint sound that was more like an elephant's trumpet to her - and it made her continue. She moved closer to his neck, her fangs digging deeper, her lips and the fingers of one hand rubbing his neck and throat. All this while her body was constantly changing the formula of her venom - even throwing in major doses of actual hormones, mainly oxytocin - to see if there was anything that would have a lasting effect on him. This caused quite a bit of discomfort to the vampyre, but she didn't stop, still caught up in the wave of many different things that were keeping her doing this.

The voices were driving her a different crazy. Of course they'd be chatty after remaining all but silent for thirty long years. But now they weren't all saying different things... no longer did she have three different things to try out at a time. Now they were all saying: 'Disrobe.'

Seeing as these voices were telling her things to do to _him_... she figured that was the same. It almost snapped her back into her senses... she had no idea what he'd do if she tried that... But you never learned if you didn't try, did you? But she wasn't going to just yank his clothes off... no. Instead, she pulled her fangs nearly completely out, then slid her lips up to his ear, leaving a fine red line going up his cheek. Into that, she kept her venom flowing, biting his ear with her normal teeth gently. "Steve, I want you to do something," she whispered in a voice he'd never heard before, one she hadn't used in all that time.

"I want you to help me with this..."

She still nibbled on his ear and his neck around it, keeping her fang close to the wound so that the oxytocin-heavy venom could still get in his bloodstream, and attempt to register its presence and its effects in the brain. She reached down with a foot to about his knee, then gripped his pants legs with her toes and tugged, soon getting the other foot down and tugging as well.

"I want you in the suit you were birthed in... and I want... you to take me..."

Mikayla pressed against him deeply, rubbing more while kissing and licking and nipping at his throat. "Right here... right now..."

She looked at him out the corner of her eye, biting his throat a little roughly but keeping her fangs away until she got back to the wounds, creating another fine line and leaking into it with both her fangs, her feet still tugging at his pants. One arm was wrapped around his neck to keep her up, but the other slid down his stomach to his waist, and her fingers buried under the waistband to grab it and help her feet.

Steve's grip on her hair becomes firmer as the moments continue. Those sounds escaping her: he's never heard a woman do that around him before. Well, that much should be obvious. He's just too overwhelmed to be in this predicament. The curious side of him wants to know what this all feels like. He's silly enough not to think of what it can lead to though. He acts in the moment, and with that venom of hers, it's difficult not to.

Yeah, the hormones work. . .a lot more than the venom. In fact, with Steve's body condition, the hormones go on overdrive. He releases loud, ragged breaths at the combination of pleasure shared between the feel of her piercing fangs and of the hormones. His free hand slides up her back and just to the strap of her bra. He wouldn't know how to undo one smoothly but the thought briefly crosses his mind. For some reason though, he still has enough sense not to do it. . .

. . .not yet anyway. . .

As soon as Mikayla pulls her fangs out of his neck, Steve releases another long sigh and tilts his head back a little with his eyes closed. This ecstasy swirling inside him like a whirlpool. . .it's amazing. . .and he can only imagine it getting much better. He's never experienced any type of pleasure like this before, not even in his adrenaline rushes. Everything can only heighten from here.

As she slides her lips up to his ear, Steve holds in his breath. His hand releases her hair so that it can roam down her body again. Oh, he's reacting alright. He knows he can do a lot more but he's holding back. Still out of nervousness and. . .something else. . .

The sultry whisper near his ear causes a small tremor to travel down Steve's spine. After that whisper, he can only imagine placing her down on a mattress and getting extremely passionate with her, their heated breaths filling the room as they entwined themselves within each other.

Wait. . .why is he thinking of that? No. . .

Mikayla puts Steve's frame of mind right back to that though as she keeps talking in that tone. "Help you with what?" he whispers back as he opens his eyes and tries to get a peek at her. The nibbling causes his heart to thud even harder and he holds in the next small sound that wants to erupt in his throat.

The venom causes Steve to actually reach down and caress and rub against Mikayla's bare thigh with one hand. No, he doesn't realize that he's doing it. It's pretty much an automatic reaction. At the feel of the tugging, he freezes. Oh no. It's this moment, isn't it? He wants to clench his fist to control that damn nervousness but he has his hands on her, so he can't do that.

Oh, is it possible for even more heat to soar southward? It sure enough is. . .especially with all that tugging. . .and those words that Steve doesn't expect. Take her? But. . .take her how? He doesn't even know. . .

Ah, the rubbing, kissing, sucking, and nipping again. This time, Steve does release another small sound, in combination with a heavy sigh. The biting sends his head soaring. And her sliding hand. . .it causes every inch of his skin to burn with this unfamiliar desire for her.

"Mikayla. . ." he whispers, a hint of passion in that voice. Steve's hand crawls upward along her. He swallows once and has this urge to do as she asks. . .but. . .

. . .but. . .

". . .I can't. . ." Steve's chest slowly heaves up and down as he's still affected by the insane amount of raging hormones within him. A small part of him does want to show her his super strength, tear those two pieces of clothes off her, and deliver the power of the supersoldier to her. But again. . .

". . .not here. Not like this. . ." Steve's breaths come out a little slower but still quite loud. He swallows again to try and control himself. ". . I want to. . .I would rather. . ." He pauses and feels a huge wave of nerves strike him as he prepares to finish that sentence.

". . .I'd prefer to make love to you. . ."

A lot more pleasured sounds escaped from her lips as he acted under that hormone-heavy venom, and she managed to get his pants pretty far down with her tugging. All his touching and his heartbeat and his breathing made her react much the same. She slid her hand down his stomach and grabbed the waistband of his underwear. She was about to tug it down... but then he whispered her name. She paused, and looked at him through hooded eyes, waiting for him to continue, her fingers idly rubbing his waist and lower. But his next words made her slowly pull them up, placing them on his chest, rubbing... though this time, it was her normal soothing rubs. Well, they tried to be. But with them in the states they were, she had no idea how they actually came out.

She let go of his pants legs, eyes staring into his. It was a little creepy, how quickly she could go from excited and ready to ride the supersoldier to completely calm. She was like that for a moment, her chest heaving gently, her bra barely covering her anymore. Then she leaned in and kissed him, quite passionately still. She might've no longer been reacting only because she could smell his arousal, but she still wanted it. "Do... do you want to go back to my room...?"

She whispered against his lips, her hands on the sides of his head, her legs once again wrapped around his waist. She bit gently, then kissed again, keeping her body still on him. Her fingers slid into his hair, then down to his shoulders, rubbing gently. "Or... wait until New York...?"

After that, she really hoped he didn't make her wait that long, or even longer. Her body was still screaming at her, demanding to be satisfied. But until she was alone, or until he said yes...

"Either way, we should probably head back..."

Her lips met his in another deep kiss, nibbling and sucking on his lip a little bit. It had been a good amount of time since they'd gotten there. She was getting a little hungry, and she hadn't told Scotch they'd be leaving.

"Unless you'd like to just swim for a little bit... calm down enough that your arousal doesn't make me go crazy again?" She smirked, placing a brief kiss on his lips.

Steve's breathing had been rough and ragged when his pants were sliding down. It's because of these actions that those words of his had spewed from his lips. Although it felt amazing in a way that he could never have imagined. . .he couldn't do it. As a 1940s man. . .it just isn't right.

He's not even with her. . .well, not officially. . well. . .not yet. . .

Ah, the thought confuses him.

As Mikayla stops and looks at him, Steve notes the way her eyes look and how she touches him. The fire does want to grow within him again but he keeps his focus on her face and on what he had just finished telling her.

Yes. . .make love. . .in a way that Steve can obviously not know. He can only picture it from what his imagination tells him. He could have easily given in right now and taken her as she asked. But. . .when he had once briefly thought of that moment when they would join their bodies in heated passion, he had thought of it as a special time when he would finally be able to physically express how he felt toward her: staring down into her eyes as he connected his body with hers gently at first, only to intensify and intensify his strokes as they continued.

If Steve was going to finally have his first time. . .he did imagine it with her. . .

She then kisses him and he responds of course. His hand slides up along her face as he does return to his imagination again. He doesn't know what to expect, doesn't know how it will be or feel, but he does know that it will be filled with passion as this kiss is.

Still calming his breathing, Steve listens to her question and thinks a moment. His eyes leave hers for only a few seconds. Is he ready for this? Can he do this? He looks back at her, the nervousness crawling over him again.

The feel of her legs around him - Steve's head takes that image to the bedroom. Her hands sliding over him - he takes the feeling of that and joins it with the thought of him laying over her, both of them disrobed. Her kisses and bites to his lips - those never fail to grab his attention. He loves the feeling of all of this: he just doesn't know what to do about it! His gentlemanly ways tell him to wait. . .

. . .it's the right thing to do.

Steve doesn't answer her yet because he's quite focused on deeply kissing her. This time though. . .he bites her lip in return. Oh yeah, our Steve is learning and growing up. He relishes in the kiss and then looks at her face again. He chuckles lightly.

"No, I think I'm done swimming," Steve finally says. He looks at her a little longer, his hands going down her back and then both landing at her waist as she remains wrapped around him. He knows he hasn't answered her first questions yet. That's because. . .well. . .

". . .we can go."

Mikayla watched and waited, her blue eyes always on him, even when kissing him. When it was her lip receiving the bite, her eyes closed as she got good feelings tingling up her spine. She stayed attached to him for a while longer after he spoke, just letting her forehead rest against his, rubbing both sides of his chest, her eyes closed. Then she leaned in and kissed him again after a while of hearing only their hearts and the soft slap of water against skin. "Alright."

She dismounted, sliding down, the very tops of her shoulders above the water once her feet hit the solidified shadows. She smiled at him, then kicked off and swam back to shore, smirking before releasing the shadows under his feet without telling him. She walked out, fixing her underclothes as she went, especially her bra - it was ready to turn over and show him what it hid. But she fixed it quickly... if he'd wanted to see them, she figured the cups would already be touching her stomach.

Mikayla wrung her hair out, looking back at him with a soft smile on her face. She knew 'no answer' met New York or later... but that was fine. What was a few more months?

She waited until she was dry before pulling her jeans, socks, and boots back on, fixing her bra yet again. She swung up onto Golden Gate, who had been dry for a while. "Ready when you are, stud."

She didn't bother clarifying which male she was talking to... though it seemed pretty obvious.

Steve closes his eyes briefly to take in the feel of her hands rubbing on both sides of his chest. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of her touch. It always manages to calm him down or. . .do other things to him. Right now though, he appreciates this tender moment with her. Maybe soon enough, he'll come to really enjoy and want the wilder and more intense things that may come with this.

Upon feeling her lips on his again, Steve kisses her softly as though it's the first time. His mind flows with the reasons why he wants to be with her here right now and why he wants to take her with him in the first place.

After a moment, Steve stands still and watches as she unclings herself from him. He suddenly feels exposed after having her attached to him for so long. He's about to go and follow her but suddenly his body sinks into the water and he has to move and stay afloat. "Hey. . ." he says with a small chuckle, after he recovers. He's about to add on to what he says but when she adjusts her bra, he instantly remembers the view of her chest just seconds before.

Without her clothes. . .she must be absolutely beautiful. . .

Steve shakes his head of the thought. He probably won't be seeing that for some time though. . .when he's ready. . .

Steve swims forward and smiles back in return. He reaches the shore and shakes some of the water out of his hair. Now's probably a time when he wishes he didn't put his pants on. He'll be fine though. He puts his shoes back on and then steps toward Golden Gate and mounts him. As soon as he's beside Mikayla, he gives her cheek a kiss and says, "Ready."

Mikayla watched him, then smiled, and for a moment just leaned back against his chest. Then she clicked her tongue. Golden Gate tossed his head and started forward, going at just a brisk trot. Gripping with her knees - something she was good at - she still leaned back against his chest a little bit. When she saw the gate, she leaned forward again, leaning over to catch the gate as they passed through. When Golden Gate came to a stop, she swung around his neck, and dropped down.

By that time it was six in the evening. Mikayla chuckled and looked at Steve, throwing his shirt at him. "Come on... it's about dinner time. Or are you not hungry?" She arched a brow as she headed toward the house, looking at her palm. It had healed while they were having fun in the lake. She had no fear of Marcus at the moment, especially since Steve was right behind her.

She led him to the kitchen, talking to herself quietly, then sighing deeply in relief when she opened the duct-taped doors to a relatively clean kitchen. Scotch had already done most of what she'd requested. "Thank you Scotch..."

She turned and looked at Steve. "Alright Mr. Mighty Man... what would you like for dinner?"

As they ride back to the place, Steve holds her gently and thinks about his fortune right now. He woke up in this modern world with a nearly lost identity. He was supposed to start over with nothing and in a foreign country. He had spent his first week walking around and going to different bars, hoping that he would wake up in the 40s again. Though he misses his home time very much. . .he met this woman beside him and now knows what he would do if a time master came up to him and offered him a choice on whether to go back seventy years. . .or stay here.

It's because of that hypothetical choice that Steve has come up with a decision. He wants to ask Mikayla something once they're in New York. Not here. Not now. There's a reason it has to be in New York.

Once they're past the gate, Steve catches his shirt and also chuckles. He puts it on and despite his wet pants and hair, he walks in and doesn't think of changing. He walks into the kitchen with her and pauses at the question. "Something simple," he says. "Nothing that takes too long to cook." He steps forward and smiles. "I'd rather have something sweet right now anyway." He takes her hand and briefly kisses her lips before walking past her and looking around for an idea of what to eat.

Oh yeah. . .Steve has barely even realized the confidence he just finished exuding. . .

Mikayla blinked at the kiss, but was quick to return it, grinning softly. "... that sounds like a microwave dinner... Does... Lasagna sound okay? You could have a fruit cocktail while it cooks. That's sweet. Or were you thinking more candy sweet?"

Fruit cocktail sounded good right then... so did lasagna. In case he didn't want that, she merely pulled it out of the freezer and set it on the counter. "Look good? It only takes a few minutes... Or... well, there's tons of sweet things in here if that's all you want."

She went to a door in the corner, and opened it. Canned fruits, sugary cereals, and bins of various candies covered the walls of the small room. There was even dried fruits. "Help yourself to whatever you feel like... need to get it gone somehow... I'm sure my kitchen will be empty by the time I return... those two eat like they're bottomless pits. But then again, most big me nare."

Mikayla chuckled, grabbing a can of fruit cocktail, patting his stomach and kissing his cheek as she slid by.

Steve doesn't understand the concept of a microwave dinner but he goes along with it. He turns to her at the sound of lasagna and nods. "Lasagna sounds fine." He smiles a bit and smiles as she suggests the fruit cocktail. He steps over and looks past the door where all the other varieties of sweets are stored.

A chuckle escapes Steve as he crosses his arms. He stares into the small room and then looks at her as she pats his stomach. "Don't know if that's exactly what I'm in the mood for," he tells her. "But the fruit cocktail will serve for now." He stays where he is and watches her.

"You ready for tomorrow?" Steve shifts a little since his pants are practically adhered to his skin now. To get his mind off that, he thinks of New York and how everything will be so different there. It's funny that he's become so accustomed here that even his own home will be strange to return to.

Part of the reason is obviously because of his decades long absence.

Mikayla smiled, and got the lasagna ready, sticking it in the microwave and geting it cooking before popping the lid on the big can and emptying it into two bowls, sliding one over to him with a spoon. "There you go."

She took a few bites, chasing after the cherries for a bit. Then she chuckled at his question. "No... no, I'm not. But I'm going with you... Better with you there, than here without you... Not to mention I don't know a thing about New York, except I'll be able to communicate." She smiled softly, sighing, sitting on the counter and watching the lasanga, taking another bite of the fruit mix. "And I don't know if I'll be able to blend in too well... I've lived in the country all my life... the air will be different."

She was quiet for a minute, then she smiled. "But I'm excited."

Mikayla got up when the microwave beeped, pulled the film off the lasagna, then put it back in for a moment. The next time it beeped she pulled it out and set it on the counter, pulling a big serving spoon out. "Do you want a plate or bowl for this?"

Steve thanks her for the bowl of fruit. He begins eating it while listening to her answer. He smiles a bit. She's lived here her whole life. . .and she's been around for centuries. If this is going to be a big change for him, he can't even begin to imagine how she must feel. It's going to be entirely alien to her, as though she's visiting another planet entirely. The air will certainly be different, that's for certain.

"I'm excited too," Steve tells her. "I know how different it'll be. I've seen a couple pictures. . .but not too many. I don't want to ruin anything." Yeah, he'll just take the surprise in person. It's going to be a tough thing to see. . .and it'll be the cause of many memories.

These memories are the reason why Steve wants to ask Mikayla his question in New York.

When she speaks again, Steve says, "A plate is fine. Thank you." He places on a small smile and finishes the fruit in his bowl. He sets it down and sighs lightly at the thought of so many changes.

Mikayla got a plate and bowl down, and quckly scooped out a corner into her bowl, giving him the spoon to dish himself some. To make herself make the bowl last, she pulled out what she called a 'baby' fork - the whole ting was the length of a normal fork's handle. She gave a normal one to him, then dug in. She loved lasagna almost as much as Garfield did... if not more. In fact, she loved almost all pastas.

She was nearly done with her bowl before she spoke again. "Um, I... know this might make you a little uncomfortable, but... can... can I sleep with you tonight...? I'll stay to the side, you won't know I'm there, just... I plan on closing my room up and... well, I need to start sleeping in a room not protected from..." She bit her lip, then shook her head. "Never mind... I'll just... sleep in an empty guest room..." And possibly get attacked by Marcus. That was her main reason for asking. Not only did he frighten off Nightmares, but he was the only mortal she'd seen Marcus wary of. But... he wasn't a total idiot... he wouldn't try anything with Steve a door over, would he...? Or should she just not take that risk?

She didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable than she had that day, but... who liked being worried?

Steve thanks Mikayla again as she hands him the plate. He immediately starts to eat, realizing how hungry he really is. For quick lasagna, this is pretty good. He's never had a dish like this done so quickly. That's what the microwave is for, hm?

As Steve eats, he faces Mikayla while she speaks. He eats rather quickly, almost finishing what he has already. Normally, he would freeze at a question like that. Instead, he starts to smile a little, almost as though he had wanted her to go and sleep by him to begin with. He parts his lips to respond positively but then she tells him that she'll sleep someplace else.

"No, you won't," Steve tells her. He takes another couple bites of the lasagna. Once he swallows that, he says, "You're sleeping beside me." He speaks the words rather casually and while paying attention to the food on the plate. He then smiles a little bit and looks at her afterward. He reaches the fork to his mouth and finishes his meal.

Mikayla blinked, pausing for a moment, her fork almost in her mouth. Then she slowly finished her bite, clearing her mouth. "Um... okay... I guess I will..."

She hadn't expected that... she was expecting him to be like when he made his 'move with me' question sound like he was asking her to marry him. Not just 'nope. My bed's got room for two'. It actually made her laugh a little before she finished her bowl, and went to get more...

... did nearly raping a guy do that? She didn't know if he'd conside it that, but when she looked back on it, that's what it seemed like to her. She'd even used a new venom in hopes he'd lose it to lust... her fingers hd been /that/ close to making contact with forbidden flesh... She wasn't complaining though. At least his messages were clearer...

"I, um... want to apologize for earlier... for the making out and the biting and... and getting past your immunities... I just... when you haven't had anything for a while and you smell a potential opportunity... well, it woke some things up. At first I was just messing with you, but... I went out of line when I bit you." She smiled slightly, and took a bite of lasagna, swallowing quickly. "So sorry about that... But... thank you for putting up with me and stopping me. I just hope you got at least some pleasure out of that..."

She went quiet after that, eating more.

It's like Mikayla isn't sure of whether or not she should sleep in his bed. It's why Steve pauses briefly and turns away. He doesn't say anything until she apologizes. Thinking back on all of that causes Steve's brain to release those chemicals. It's because she lists nearly everything that they did.

Steve clears his throat lightly. He looks at her briefly but still stays quiet. Then she goes on to explain herself. He can easily explain himself too and let her know that -because- he hasn't had anything, he was actually a little curious.

Steve gives her a small smile but doesn't respond to her last statement. Instead, he says, "Thank you for respecting my. . .my ways. I just. . ." He chuckles in spite of himself and shakes his head. "You don't have to be sorry, Mikayla. I don't. . .I don't hold anything against you."

Steve looks at her bare arms and shoulders, which were big deals back in his time. He smiles a little more and walks toward the kitchen's exit. His heart beats slightly faster before he says what's next on his mind. ". . .and when I said I wanted something sweet. . .I didn't mean food. . ." He takes another look at her. "I'll be upstairs."

With that, Steve makes a rather gracious exit.


	12. Sweet Tooth

Mikayla blinked when he left. Didn't mean food...? Then what? She thought on that for a little bit, then sighed and finished her lasagna, rinsing the bowl but leaving it in the sink. She put the lasagna away, then just stood there and stared at where she'd found Leonardo. The thought of such an old, sweet, loving man meeting such an unfair, ciolent death quickly brought tears to her eyes. Had he suffered? Or had they just staked him before learning their mistake?

She fled the room, quickly making her way to hers. While there, for what felt like days she stared at the picture of her and Leo in the special frame. When sher vision started to blur, she carefully tucked it back into her suitcase. She cleaned up her room a little, then showered, chucking her clothes down the chute to the laundry room. When she got out, she pulled her blue pajamas on... they were a bit big, but she liked the feel and color. They were so soft and smooth.

Then came the big task of man-proofing her room. She didn't know how long she'd be gone, and though she trusted Scotch with her life, she knew the temptation would eventually be too much for him. She knew a little something that would bar entry though. She opened the hinged doorframe, and started drawing symbols on the wood, using her own blood to make it more powerful and long lasting.

Her arm was sore by the time she was done, from opening it so many times... but it didn't bother her. She moved all her things out into the hallway, grabbing her special pillow - her mother's blanket was already packed away - before closing the two doors, drawing yet another symbol on the doors. Satisfied, she checked the time. It was ten at night... it had been a little under four hours since she'd last seen Steve. She clutched her pillow tightly, then made her way to his room, hoping he was still awake. She knocked on the door, poking her head in. "Steve...?"

Steve goes upstairs and slips into his room, quickly reaching for the only clothes he had not packed. He steps into the shower not long thereafter and does what he usually does.

He reflects.

Steve reflects on the last couple hours. Having the water run over his skin like this only makes him think back on the lake. It's like all those sensations are returning as ghostly energy to remind him of why he just pulled that action in the kitchen with Mikayla.

It's so unlike him though. Well. . .it was. . .until she gave him a hint of her capabilities.

Steve thinks on this a little longer before stepping out, drying himself off, and placing on a pair of pants. He sits on the corner of the bed and looks toward the door to see if Mikayla might be arriving. When he doesn't see her, he reaches into one of his bags and pulls out a couple sheets of paper. Staring at them, he starts to wonder.

Maybe he should ask her tonight. . .

Steve comes close to a smile but for some reason, he can't manage one. His opposite hand lifts and his fingers lightly stroke the parchment's surface. He looks through the rest of the papers and makes his decision: he's going to ask her tonight. . .after he shows her these papers.

Steve sets them down and stands to adjust the bedsheets. He puts an extra pillow to one side and leaves space for her. Then he dims the lights slightly. When she still doesn't arrive, he goes to look at himself in the mirror. He breathes steadily and attempts to calm himself.

"Okay," he whispers.

Then Steve moves back to the bed and looks toward the door again. Perhaps. . .perhaps he shouldn't have said those words in the kitchen? How could he? She's in her home where the darkest things have recently occurred. He can't just expect her to. . .

. . .Steve, how the hell can someone like you be so inconsiderate?

Scolding himself, Steve has half the mind to go and apologize but then he thinks it over. Give her some time alone. Hopefully Marcus won't arrive. She needs to say bye to so much and actually take in the terrible events.

Steve sighs and takes the papers from the bed. He folds them and sets them back in his bag, zipping it up afterward. He keeps one sheet though. He sits on the bed for a moment and then lays down as he stares at that sheet.

No. . .he won't ask her tonight. It'll have to wait.

Waiting. . .and waiting. . .Steve falls asleep with the sheet on his chest. It's a sheet with a sketch of Mikayla, sitting in the hotel room, smiling, and with the flowers in her hands. She's looking off to the side, as though pensive on something.

With that on him, Steve's asleep as she finally arrives to his room.

Mikayla smiled slightly, seeing his sleeping form on the bed. Whoops... she slid in his room, quietly shutting the door behind her, then silently made her way to his bed. She went to slide over and give him a gentle kiss on the lips, but she saw the paper. She lifted it, gently taking it from him, letting her brows raise. Wow... who knew Steve was an artist? Well, he obviously did...

She sat and looked at it for a good while, then set the picture on the bedside table and slid into bed. For a little while, she simply laid next to him and rubbed his chest, her head on his shoulder. "Sorry I took so long, Steve," she said softly.

She leaned up and kissed him gently on the lips, then shut the lights off and got comfortable, on the edge with her back to Steve.

When she woke up, there wasn't a little gap between her and Steve... no, she was snuggled in firmly against him, her legs wrapped around one of his, her arm draped across his chest. She smiled softly, and rubbed his chest, slowly lifting her head to look up at him. "Hey..."

She spoke softly, but loud enough to wake him up. "Hey, sleepyhead... time to wake up."

She chuckled softly, giving him another kiss before she laid back down with him. Then she rolled over and picked the drawing back up, looking at it some more, prodding the man next to her with her elbow gently to make sure he woke up. When she saw his eyes flutter, she grinned, rolled up, and kissed him deeply. "Good morning, my American artist. I'm sorry I didn't come up sooner last night... I had things to do."

Steve doesn't dream that night, ironically. He has a peaceful sleep and is obviously completely oblivious of Mikayla's actions. That morning though, he had felt a sense of comfort as though he subconsciously knew that she had slept so close to him.

Feeling the gentlest of kisses on his lips, Steve stirs a bit. Then he feels her elbow against him. He moves slightly with a small groan and opens his eyes. He's about to respond to her voice but then he feels the deep kiss.

This is probably the best way he's ever been awakened. . .

Steve sets his hand on her cheek and returns the kiss just as deeply. Then he looks at her with a small smile. "Hey. . ." he says, a little more awake now. He pauses at the nickname she calls him. Ah. . .she obviously saw his drawing. He reddens very lightly. It takes him a moment to recover.

"No need to be sorry, Mikayla. I'm. . .I'm sorry for acting the way I did. . .in the kitchen yesterday. I only wanted to spend time with you and it was inconsiderate of me. . ." Steve pauses and looks away. "I. . .I'm not used this. . ." He says that last part lowly.

Damn the nerves. . .

Mikayla smiled softly, and shook her head, carressing his cheek softly. "No need for you to be sorry either Steve. It's okay."

She rested her head on his chest, looking up at him. "I kinda wished you'd been a tad bit clearer on your want... I would've come here after my shower instead of bleeding all over my door... We have time now though... I woke you up a little bit early... I enjy spending time with you too, you know."

She smiled, reaching down and lacing the fingers of both hands through one of his, rubbing his hand gently. She tilted her head up, kissing his throat softly. She then sat up, turning slightly, taking the paper into her hand again. "So when did you do this?" She chuckled softly. "I don't remember sitting down around you long enough for you to whip something out and draw on. It's beautiful."

She grinned softly. "Your paper love makes me jealous. She's so much prettier than little old me." As she looked at it her hand made its way to his leg, and rubbed softly, then just rested there. Then she looked up at his face, a lively sparkle in her eye.

Steve chuckles a bit. "I. . .I didn't know. . ." He looks back at her and imagines how it would have been if she actually came during his mental planning. Then he listens to the rest of what she says but doesn't immediately say anything to it yet.

Instead, Steve responds to her next set of words. The kiss to his throat echoes along his skin and causes him to take one of her hands in a light grip. "I did it a little afterward. . .when I. . .when I almost left." He pauses as he thinks of the other papers in his bag. He won't mention them yet. He blushes softly at the compliment. "I like drawing things that stay burned in my memory."

Here Steve looks up at her. He reaches over to briefly brush his hand over hers on his leg. "No. . .I could never translate your beauty on paper," he tells her, a smile in his eyes. He lays there, almost leaning upward but decided against it. . .for now.

It's at that moment when he responds to her earlier statement.

"You know. . .I still might have that sweet tooth. . ." Steve sits up this time, leaning a bit toward her but not taking an exact action yet except for a hand to her back. It had already taken courage to do and say what he just did.

Mikayla blushed softly at his comment, looking at the drawing. "Well... you might say that... But I think this is gorgeous... I..." She looked down, then up at him. "That was burned in your memory?"

She put the drawing back onto the table, smiling as he put his hd on her back, hearing his words. She slid over next to him, under his arm, kissing his cheek softly. "Is that so? And, uh..." She reached up and rubbed his chest gently, keeping her smile up. "How're you going to sate it?"

She rested her head back against his shoulder, her blues bright and lively, her hand still rubbing his chest. Then it wandered his torso a little, tracing his muscles with her fingertips gingerly.

Steve nods at her question. "It was. . ." He looks at her again. "You seem to have that effect on me."

As she slides under his arm, Steve smiles. "Uhm. . .I don't know. . .maybe. . ." He looks down at her beautiful eyes and at her traveling fingers, which leave wakes of static along his skin. ". . .maybe starting like this. . ."

Heart beating faster (unknown why he's still nervous around her), Steve sets a hand to her cheek and kisses her lips a bit passionately. Through the kiss, he says, "Kisses. Just lots of kisses. . ." He smiles a bit and leans more into her, taking in her scent, her presence.

He becomes taken in with her.

Mikayla grinned when he kissed her, biting gently at the very end, her hand on is cheek. "Lots of kisses? Just let me get more comfortable first."

She swung her outside leg over, and straddled his lap, settling down before kissing his shoulder and neck, then his lips. "I won't grind, just kiss, don't worry."

She looked up at him, and kissed the corner of his mouth, then his lips, stroking his cheek and rubbing his chest gently. She rested her forehead against his, kneading the flesh of his shoulders gently. After a little bit, she wrapped her legs around his waist and held him close, chuckling softly. "You are so comfortable... did you know that?"

She kissed him again, then nuzzled against his neck before kissing it.

Steve sits back a little when she straddles him. He kisses her back, kissing the other side of her neck as she kisses him. He lets his lips wander as much as hers do.

"I won't worry," Steve whispers as he kisses her lips as though he hasn't kissed her before. His hands slide up her shoulder, down her arm, up her back. He does this all tenderly and slowly though.

Steve's hands land on her hips as her forehead lands on his. He holds her to him and gives her another quick kiss. "Yeah? Then stay on me as long as you want."

As she kisses his neck, Steve runs his hand up her back and leans over to kiss along her shoulder. Oh yes, she's gotten him really into kissing.

Baby steps, baby steps. . .

Mikayla closed her eyes as his lips wandered, smiling and biting her lip. Now she knew why he liked it so much. Each time his lips made contact with her skin, it was like a firework was set off right underneath, and the resulting sparks traveled further. She chuckled at his words, trembling at his tender touch, and kissed his throat, nipping lightly. "Trust me, I would... but we have to leave in about forty-five minutes."

She grinned softly as she finally caught his lips again, her hands mocing to his cheeks her lips staying locked with his for a good while. "You know... I think I like your sweet tooth..." She kissed him again, a tiny bit rougher, biting his lip. "And I'm liking your confidence."

She locked their lips again, then gently pushed him back down into a laying position, pulling her legs out from under him and folding them beneath her thighs. She moved up on him a little, her hands resting on his chest, rubbing a little. "You're even more comfortable like this..."

The tender yet passionate little moments go on and Steve enjoys every moment of them. This is all from the thoughts of a man who would have been slightly uncomfortable and very nervous just days before. Now he's become that much more bonded with her, feeling as though he can experience almost anything with her. Almost. . .

. . .inside, Steve is still working on that.

She'll probably never fail at grabbing more of his attention when touching his throat. Steve feels those little sparks travel along his skin but then he chuckles softly at what she says. "Then we better get going." A slight grin also appears on his lips.

Inside, it's so surprising that Steve is able to keep up with all the long and deep kisses. He cups the back of her head at the long kiss and then laughs a little bit again. "I might be getting more later. Who knows?" He kisses her again. "Maybe in New York. . ."

Steve manages to flush briefly at the comment about his confidence. Honestly, he's not even aware that he's gained it. It just. . .naturally arrived. He doesn't remark to it though. He only grins again, moving back as she lays him down. When she rubs his chest, he looks up at her with the same small grin. "Yeah? You think so?" He goes forward and snakes an arm around her.

Mikayla smiled. "Mm, we've got some time yet..."

She snuggled closer when he wrapped his arm around her, smiling and sighing deeply. "Oh yeah... If I didn't know any better I'd think I was lying on one of heaven's clouds... only this one has a beating heart, strong arms, and some pretty kissable lips... speaking of that."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed him lightly, still rubbing his chest. For quite a while she just cuddled, her lips touching his skin every now and then. Then she lifted herself, fingers trailing along the inside of his arm, sitting on his waist. She was about to say something when she paused, and her eyes flashed. She smiled slightly, sighing, then leaned down and kissed him lovingly. "I apologize, but... we're going to have to cut this short..."

She kissed him briefly again, then got up and slipped through the door... Marcus was on the other side. She was out there for only a few minutes, maybe only one, before she opened it back up, looking a bit upset. "Come on... time to go."


	13. On to New York

Holding her like this causes Steve to relax more than he has in a long while. She's brought to him this feeling that he didn't think would return in this modern time. His naïve mind didn't believe that it was possible to move on from Peggy and feel. . . this. . . again. . . with someone else. . .

Mikayla's words cause Steve to break from his thoughts for now. His other hand moves through her hair and he smiles a little bit. Heaven's clouds. . . it's a deep statement to him. He looks toward her at the 'kissable lips' comment. He kisses her back, stroking his fingers along her spine. He's completely fine with just laying with her like this.

When Mikayla sits on his waist, Steve's hands land on her hips and he just looks at her, a gentle expression in his eyes, one that might even be described as loving. He waits for her to say or do something. In fact, he's about to speak but then she kisses him. He returns the tender kiss and smiles a bit. "Can't miss the flight, can we?"

Steve watches her leave. Then he sits up, oblivious to Marcus being on the other side. He puts a simple t-shirt on, some shoes, and makes sure that his bags are well-packed. In the middle of that, he hears the door open again. He turns to look over his shoulder while crouched beside one of the bags. "You alright?"

The soldier is pretty good at reading expressions. Well, he tries at least.

Mikayla sighed softly, shaking her head. "I... I've been better... I just don't think I can be here any more..." She looked down. "Not with him here as well. But I can't put _all_ the responsibility on Scotch... the car will be here shortly."

She disappeared out the door to get dressed and get her things. She met him by the front door, rubbing her arm, her face dark. But when she saw him, she smiled and grabbed a few of his fingers. "Ready?"

She opened a door just as a black car drove up. The back doors and trunk opened, but it was impossible to see the driver. Mikayla pulled her things to the trunk, which was deceptively large once they got up to it. Even with their luggage it seemed large enough to hold them as well. Once everything was packed, Mikayla whistled sharply, slipping into the car, which looked as large as a limo once inside.

Nevar dove in just before she closed the door, croaking grumpily, sitting on Steve's lap. "Oh, wait..."

She opened the door again, and was gone in a flash, reappearing quickly with two rolls of leather. She smiled at Steve as she closed the door. "Since Nevar likes you so much, might as well protect those big shoulders of yours."

She looked forward. "Yuri, airport please."

There was a hiss from the front seat - which was blocked from view by blackened glass - and they started moving.

Steve stands up and takes a couple steps toward her. "Mikayla. . ." he starts to say as she speaks. He doesn't like what she tells him. He frowns briefly and can't say what's on his mind because she disappears so quickly. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head. Marcus won't have very nice words from him if they run into each other. The one called Captain America doesn't even have to guess: he knows that Marcus has something to do with this.

Steve takes his bags and heads downstairs to meet Mikayla by the front door. It's easy to tell that he's not very fond of her expression. He doesn't even smile as she does. He only nods as she takes his fingers, which he's become very accustomed to. As they're putting their items in the trunk, he doesn't pay attention to how strange the car is. Instead, he says, "Mikayla. . .you know, you can tell me whatever it is you like. I know you might not like talking about it but. . .sometimes. . .it might be better that way. . ." He shakes his head and goes to enter the large car after her.

The inside of the vehicle distracts Steve briefly. He starts to take a look around, seeing Nevar where he lands. "Hey," he says, briefly stroking the feathers. He watches as Mikayla disappears once more. Then he sighs lightly and comments out loud, subconsciously to the large raven. ". . .the less I know about her reasons for being like that. . .the worse I imagine them. . ."

Then she returns. Steve smiles very slightly and nods. "Thanks." He turns his head when he hears the hiss. What the hell is driving this thing?

Eh. . .he's got his mind set on other things right now.

Mikayla sighed deeply, shaking her head. "Marcus is... just... He doesn't approve and he thinks his opinion means something... and that's twice now he's tried to kiss me..." She looked out the window as they drove, then rubbed her arm, which had finger-shaped bruises wrapped around it.

She crawled up the seat and leaned against him, hugging her knee to her chest and resting her head on his shoulder. Her eyes just stared forward for a bit, but then she looked up at him. For a moment, she just looked at his face, seeming to memorize it. Then she leaned up, and placed a light kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for asking me to come along, Steve... And thank you for being so sweet to me."

She just stayed like that for the rest of the drive, which was a good fifteen minutes. She looked out the window as they got there, then crawled out and looked around. "Thank you, Yuri, for driving us on such short notice."

The trunk opened, enabling them to get their luggage. She searched through one of her bags to get the tickets, pulling them out. Then her eyes made their way to Steve. "Ready?"

Steve listens to her words and feels a small bit of anger weigh within his chest. He knew he should have spoken a few words to Marcus before leaving. They're leaving now, so maybe it was for the best that he didn't cross paths with him again. He looks over at Mikayla and wraps his arm around her when she comes over. Marcus had physically hurt her. . . the thought of that doesn't rest too well with the super soldier.

A couple moments later, Steve looks at her again and is a little soothed by her words. "You deserve so much, Mikayla," he says. "I'm more than glad that I asked you to come along. One of the best choices I've made."

Once they arrive, Steve looks out the window and gets out after her. He does wonder if there's a holding item for Nevar. The raven might not like it but he'd probably have to put inside a box or cage. That's what he figures anyway. He can't imagine how this airport works but he did do a little research on all of this. He did always plan to leave at one point. . . all before his current state with Mikayla. . .

Steve takes his bags and looks ahead. He's still curious about the driver and he figures it's another creature of the supernatural. He has to admit that he'll miss some of this place. Whether he'll come back or not, well. . . that's unknown for now.

"Yeah," Steve says as he looks at her. "I am."

Now it's time to follow what he's learned. Steve takes as many bags as he can so that he can take Mikayla's hand and go into the airport with her. They check in a few of their bags and have them placed on a conveyor. Then before they have to pass through the security area, Steve stops in the center of the terminal where there are a good number of people around them, all of course fulfilling their plans to go somewhere.

"Well. . ." Steve says. He had set Nevar on his shoulder. . .yeah without the leather. "We're going to have to find a box or cage for him. I know. . .it doesn't sound very comfortable. . .or ideal. . .but we won't get past security with him."

Mikayla made a face at Steve's words, watching as Nevar looked more than a little displeased himself. She bit her lip, chewing a little in thought. She looked to the side. "I could always try and Glamour his way in... but... that only works if all the security is male. I'm pretty sure there's women too..." Plus... for some reason, the thought of Glamouring some random guy didn't sound too appealing. Not that she'd ever use it on Steve... never... if it even worked.

"No, I guess putting him in a cage is the only choice... Nevar, don't you dare hiss, or I'll make sure the conditions are cramped... Is there somewhere here, or...?"

She jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat, and whirled. A tall, lanky figure was standing behind her, completely clothed. Completely. Gloves, long sleeves, pants, boots, scarf, glasses, and hood. White hair spilled out of that, and from certain angles, bright violet oculars could be seen. He was holding a large dog crate.

He nodded his head as Mikayla took it. "Thank you, Yuri." She dug through her personal bag to get something for him, but he held up a long, thin fingered hand before turning and walking out.

Mikayla put the crate down, opening it. She then coaxed Nevar onto her arm, hissing as he intentionally dug his talons in, then lowered him onto the ground. He walked in, sounding a rebellious hiss before the door was closed. "Well... there's that. Nevar, I'm sorry... tell you what. When we get there and settled I'll give you a quarter cup of minced meat, and you can cuddle with Steve to your heart's content... after I'm done with him."

She chuckled as the raven croaked, obviously liking that. She turned to the soldier. "Is Steve okay with that deal?"

Steve expects those reactions from Mikayla and Nevar. Lowly, he says, "Well, glamouring might come in handy later. Wouldn't be such a bad idea if we run into some issues." He chuckles lightly. Then he's about to suggest that they look for a crate in the airport until he turns and sees the completely covered figure. He would have said or done something but then Mikayla registers familiarity. He stands by and looks down at the crate. So _this_ is Yuri. Interesting. Maybe he'll be asked about later.

"Very useful guy," Steve says once the mysterious figure is gone. He watches as Nevar steps into the crate. "Sorry about this." He chuckles at the rewards that she lays out for the raven. Then he looks at her afterward. "Yeah, I don't see a problem with that. Don't know about the cuddling with him though." He laughs a little and picks up the crate before she can. He takes his carry-on bags and tosses them over his shoulder. Then he reaches for her hand so they can pass the security checkpoint.

The hardest part is showing the identification but for some reason the woman recognizes Steve and seems more than pleased to let him through. He's relieved at that and wonders if that has something to do with Captain America. He sets that to the back of his mind and sets the bags and crate down so they can go through screening. Then he passes through the metal detectors and waits on the other side for Mikayla, his bags, and Nevar's crate.

So far. . .things aren't going so badly. It's very different for him since none of this ever existed in the 40s but Steve's prepared because of his reading. He just keeps a close look at Mikayla in case of anything. He knows that this must be incredibly new for her.

Mikayla nodded, then chuckled. "What, he can't rest against your neck?"

She reached for the crate, but Steve already had it. She smiled and walked with him, hand in hand, eyes flying around, trying to take everything in at once. She set her one bag down gently, and passed through without a problem. She siged deeply in relief when she joined up with Steve, her fingers wrapping around the handle of the crate before Steve could get it, hooking her bag over her shoulders. "I don't know what I would do without Yuri in situations like this... I completely forgot about almost everything security wise... But he keeps up to date."

Her fingers found his and held them, smiling at him. They were that much closer to New York, and her to a... new beginning of sorts.

Steve chuckles at her question. Then he shakes his head when she takes the crate before he does. He secures his bags and smiles at her statement about Yuri. Always doing the natural reaction to her taking his fingers: he goes along and takes her hand as they start to walk. "Glad he came in time," he says. "I'm figuring he's. . ." He clears his throat softly. ". . .unique."

Steve smiles a little more and then passes through the airport shops, restaurants, bars, and various terminals where people are seated and waiting for their flights. He goes straight to theirs where the lights read: "FLIGHT TO NEW YORK. ARRIVAL - ON TIME."

They've got only a couple minutes until they start boarding.

Steve stands by instead of taking a seat. He figures that it won't be too long anyway. He looks toward Mikayla and says, "You can sit down if you want as we wait." His eyes stay on her as he starts to register the situation more and more. He's actually here. . .with her. . .and leaving back home. He's. . .

. . .he's going back home.

The thought has weighed heavy on his mind since they stepped into this airport. It feels like one of Steve's dreams again. Only this time he'll have to make sure that he doesn't wake up from it. Well, the thing is that he isn't going to wake up. It'll all be real. The bad news is that once he's there, he'll start to search for and expect to see Colonel Phillips, Peggy, and the rest of his comrades.

All of that will hit once more. . .harder than a brick wall. The question is whether or not Steve is prepared for that. Perhaps it's what he's been waiting for.

Mikayla nodded softly. "Yuri? I... Unique...?" She seemed quite confused about what he meant.

She then shook her head at his suggestion, taking a step closer and resting her head on his arm. "No, I'm okay. Won't be long anyway." She looked down at the crate by their feet. "Don't crates like that go in cargo, Steve?"

She closed her eyes, sighing deeply. A very small part of her wanted to let go of him, grab the crate, and go back home. But the largest part - including her heart - had her anchored there, figuratively shackled to the taller man at her side, starting to weave an intricate emotional braid between them. She tried to imagine what the big city was like, around her instead of in pictures.

She turned her eyes up to Steve. "What was your New York like, Steve?"

Steve decides not to elaborate on the _unique_ comment. He just smiles a bit and shakes his head. He leans his head to the side slightly so that he can briefly nuzzle her. To her question, he says, "No. That can fit under the seat. As long as it can fit there, it's fine. Otherwise, they wouldn't have let us pass." He chuckles lightly.

Steve looks toward the window and sees many planes by the runway. He feels his heartbeat increase in pace. This is so nerve-wrecking for him. It shouldn't be. He should be excited, which he is. . .but there's so much more to this. He's going back to his old life and starting anew at the same time.

He tries his best to stay calm.

To Mikayla's next question, Steve pauses. He thinks about it, remembering it clearly since it feels like just weeks ago that he was there. "It was. . .busy. . .lively. Always something to do. People walked in their coats and hats, the couples arm in arm. Buildings stood everywhere, fairs were very common. . .as was propaganda and posters about the war. Soldiers were a common sight. A lot of them liked to stay in the lounges. The lounges were peaceful and relaxing, despite being filled by so many people. People would have their drinks and dance. Smoke filled the air." He smiles a bit at the faces he sees. "It was really something. . ."

Steve does restrain himself from getting emotional, remembering these all as fond memories rather than sad ones. He looks toward the doors by the boarding area and notices that they're about to call the people onto the plane soon.

Mikayla smiled at his nuzzling, looking at him. She then nodded as he answered her. "Ah, okay. Nevar, you better be quiet."

A quiet croak answered her.

She smiled, and looked at Steve, trying to imagine everything he was saying. Honestly, she couldn't. She just couldn't imagine lots of people, smoky air, general business. Which meant the final experience would be that much better... She leaned up and kissed his throat, smiling. "I'm glad it was you and not the internet that I asked... as with history books, personal experience is always so much better..."

She rested her head against him, then looked at the boarding gates. "I guess it's time to go."

She felt excitement build, her fingers sliding from his to the rubies around her throat. Once again she felt like turning... but it was even smaller than before. Instead, she stooped and picked up the raven's cage, sighing softly. "I pray these rubies work for me... I don't think Yuri would appreciate having to bring me Italian soil while I'm in New York..."

Steve hears what she says about history books and. . .internet? Yes, he does remember Mikayla mentioning that and showing him. It's still a very strange concept to him. The fact that his time is now in the history books: that's still difficult to imagine. He wonders if there is a museum about his work.

Steve strays from his thoughts when he focuses on the gate again. "Yeah," he says. He looks at her when she touches the rubies. Her words cause him to hope too. He gives her a small smile and says, "I'm sure it'll work out fine."

Steve then takes that hand of hers, kisses it, and holds it gently as he walks to the line of people with her. It actually doesn't take too long to board the plane. Once they're on, he places their bags in the overhead bin and waits for her to have a seat before he does.

This plane is indeed different from what Steve is used to. There are a lot more people crowded in.

Mikayla smiled at his reassuring words, and sighed, nodding. "Yeah... Everything'll be fine..."

Once on the plane, she slid into a window seat, sighing deeply. She was already feeling pressure in her chest and a dizzying void in her head. It confused her a little, considering they weren't up in the air and thousands of feet from land yet, but she stopped thinking about that, and instead took Steve's hand, squeezing a little. She then flipped it over, and just looked at it, very lightly running her fingers over the lines in his palm. She smiled, and traced one in particular. "Long life line..."

Yeah, that was right, she knew a little about reading palms. Not much... but she didn't need to know much. She lifted his palm to her lips and kissed it. "And that means that you're a very kind, loving man, that any woman would consider herself the luckiest alive to get to be called his."

She smiled softly. That wasn't palm reading... but to her it was the truth.

Steve notices her demeanor on the plane. He makes a note to continuously soothe her throughout the duration of the long flight. When she takes his hand, he smiles a bit. Long life line? Now that he thinks about it, he does start to wonder about Captain America's longevity.

Steve's opposite hand runs down her cheek with the backs of his fingers, in time for her kiss to his palm. He looks at her gently for some time after her next set of words. He turns away and blankly stares toward the seat in front of him. Then he parts his lips and says, ". . .maybe. . .you can soon consider yourself that lucky."

Steve's pulse increases slightly, courtesy of the nerves again. He controls any heated reaction his face might make. Luckily the flight attendant starts to speak into the microphone and tells everyone to buckle themselves up. Then she proceeds to explain the emergency procedures as the plane starts to slowly move along the ground.

The flight attendant also mentions that the flight will be nine hours. It will be quite the journey. . . journey back home. . .

If he did have any original longevity, it would only be enhanced if he stayed around her for any length of time. It seemed to do that to people - her first husband had lived more than double the average lifespan of people of his time, and she had never bitten him. Her second husband had lived around her even longer; him she did bite, but she didn't turn, one night every two weeks. Was her immortality contagious...?

Mikayla blinked at his words, and parted her lips to say something, but paused. She didn't even know what to say...

Just as she found her voice, the flight attendant spoke up. She sighed, and quieted, listening after buckling herself in. She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, both hands laced with one, her thumbs rubbing. '... maybe... you can soon consider yourself that lucky.' She felt like she liked the sounds of that... but that 'maybe'. She never liked that word, because it was a fifty-fifty chance of anything. But it was all up to Steve.

She made the dumb mistake of looking out the window a good while later, when they were up in the air. At first, she merely froze, but then she squeaked and whipped around, hiding her face against his shoulder, her heart racing. Her grip on his hand tightened a little, and she whimpered softly. Why did she do that? 'To err is human'. Well, she wasn't human... but that didn't excuse her from never erring, did it?

Nine hours. There would be nine long hours of hiding her face against him in various places as she constantly made the same mistake; she hid against his neck, his shoulder, or his chest, depending on how quickly she turned around and how secure she wanted to feel. Her heart was racing the whole entire time, with a little worry and quite a bit of fright evident in those tropical blues of hers.

Steve enjoys her closeness as usual and sits there as the plane wheels around toward the runway. It speeds down and lifts into the air. He starts to think about his situation with Mikayla when she suddenly squeaks and buries her face against him. He looks over at her and sets his arm around her, stroking her arm gently. "It's okay," he whispers.

Steve can't help but smile a little. Her reaction is a little adorable, although he's concerned on making her feel more at ease. He continues to run his hand along her to try and soothe her, even as she sets her face on different parts of him. He doesn't mind where she clings or buries her face. If it makes her feel better, it's fine.

"Sometimes going to sleep is the best way to pass the time," Steve whispers to her as he holds her to him. "I know it might be hard but. . ." He reaches over to pull the screen over the window so that she doesn't have to see the clouds outside and realize how high they are in the air.

Nine hours really is a long time. But once those hours are up. . . they will actually be in New York. Yes, New York. . . his home. New York. . .

. . .the place where Steve plans to say goodbye to his past and finally receive his closure.

Steve's touch did indeed soothe her, as her shaking calmed soon after he started. She looked up at him as he whispered, her eyes wide, like those of a young child. She did say she still had childish moments... like freaking out over literal nothingness and clinging to him as if he could actually save her from that which she feared so passionately. The only thing that could save her from that was the ability to fly. Or a parachute.

"Sleep? That word isn't even in my vocabulary right now..."

Mikayla cuddled closer to him, closing her eyes. Then she smirked. Still in a childish moment, she looked up at him. "You should sing me a lullaby, Steve. Then I might be able to sleep..."

She hugged his arm to her, still looking up at him with big lively eyes, one hand rubbing his arm lightly. She nuzzled her head against him, closing her eyes. She hoped that she'd hear his voice with a tune, but she didn't hope too hard. She settled into a more comfortable position, her ear against his chest to hear his heart. It wasn't as crisp as when she was directly over it, but it still calmed her down. It was a lullaby all in itself, strong and steady and, at least to her, hypnotizing with its 'ba-thump-ba, ba-thump-ba'.

It was almost enough to send her into a deep sleep. But there was one thing keeping her awake, and that was her want to hear his voice.

Steve looks into her eyes, reading the fear in them. There are so many sides to her. He wonders if he's even seen all of them. He kisses the top of her head and then laughs softly at what she says about sleep. Then he pauses, completely caught off guard by what he hears.

"Sing?" Steve chuckles at the thought of it. "Not really my strong point. I don't actually sing." Besides, he would probably butcher anything he would attempt to sing. He laughs again at the thought and shakes his head. He wouldn't even know what to sing. He doesn't know any songs. And if she expects him to make one up, that would be even crazier than requestiing him to sing.

Still, Steve holds her against him as the plane's noises reduce to a lulling hum. The flight attendants pass by with carts of food and drinks. Some people watch the movies offered on the screens on the backs of their chairs. Others go to sleep or read. Everyone does something different. Even with so many actions occurring around them, Steve is only focused on the woman leaned against him. She's the only one who exists for him right now.

"Sorry I'm disappointing you with my lack of singing," he whispers as though reading her mind. Steve releases one more soft chuckle and closes his eyes as he leans his head against the back of the seat. Having her close to him like this has always put him at ease and it's very likely that he'd fall asleep before she does. He prevents himself from doing so because he wants to stay awake, in case she gets frightened again.

Mikayla chuckled quietly. "You don't even know one little lullaby? 'Hushabye Mountain'? 'Rock-a-bye Baby'? Nothing? You weren't sung to as a child?" Her mother would sing to her every night until she was twelve, at which point she no longer lived in the same house. After that, it was her husband that would sing her to sleep for the next eight years. And occasionally throughout the rest of their seventy years together.

She opened her eyes, turning her face up to look at him. "Alright," she whispered, smiling. "I'll sing to _you_. But I will get you to sing for me someday."

She snuggled up again, getting comfortable with her lips close to his ear so she could speak quietly but he could still hear. "_A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain, softly blows over Lullaby bay. It fills the sails of boats that are waiting; Waiting, to sail your worries away. It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain, and your boat waits down by the key. The winds of night, so softly are sighing; Soon they will fly your troubles to sea. So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain, wave goodbye, to cares of the day. And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain, sail far away from Lullaby Bay... So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain, wave goodbye, to cares of the day. And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain, sail far away... from Lullaby Bay..._"

Her voice was very soft and quiet near the end, as if she was singing from her sleep. And with how quickly she actually quieted, it didn't sound so crazy to say she had been. Asleep or not, she reached up even more to kiss his cheek, then settled again, and drifted deep asleep, hugging his arm to her tightly.

Steve pauses at her question. His eyes fall toward the seat in front of him again as he says, "No. . .not that I remember." His childhood had definitely not been the greatest but it's because of that that he's always pushed forward to strive.

Steve then briefly looks at her and chuckles softly. Getting him to sing? That would be an accomplishment. He leans toward her as she snuggles beside him. Then he listens to her lovely and soothing singing. It causes him to close his eyes and relax. Something about her singing honestly touches his emotions and he wants to tell her so many things right then.

Instead though, Steve falls asleep before she does, although he hadn't meant to. He falls into a dreamless sleep, knowing his body is comforted by her presence.

Then. . .

"We would like to welcome our passengers to New York, New York where the local time is 4:16pm. Weather forecast is cloudy with hints of sunny. . ."

Steve opens his eyes and looks out the opposite window across the aisle. It's the airport. He can already see some hint of the buildings in the distance. His heart pounds faster and faster. He can't believe it.

Captain America is home.

As Steve's slow, strong, steady heartbeat had been her lullaby, it was the quickening of it that woke her up. She'd been in the middle of an edgy dream, so when her eyes opened, they opened wide, and she snapped up, looking around. She then yawned, realizing there was nothing wrong, and rubbed her eyes, feeling well-rested.

Mikayla looked up at Steve, just then realizing the plane was actually not moving. "We're here...?" She looked out and saw that hint of buildings, and a slight smile made it over her face. So... she was in the Americas. Steve's home...

Her fingers slid down to his hand, and gripped it, as people started grabbing their things and and getting up to leave the plane. She reached down and pulled Nevar from under the seat as Steve got the things from above, taking her bag and hooking it over her shoulder.

She walked out with him, quieting Nevar as he got loud in his excitement, threatening to truss him silent. Her eyes found Steve again, and she smiled softly.

"Welcome home, Steve."


	14. The Hotel Room

Steve can't help the nerves, even as he smiles. He looks back at her and doesn't say anything. He just squeezes her hand lightly. Then he turns to exit the gate and eventually the very busy airport.

Once outside, Steve just stands and stares at all the cars and buses, coming and going as they pick up and drop off different people. His heart pounds faster and he almost isn't able to move for some time. This feels too much like the many dreams he's had of returning. He hasn't seen the city yet, so everything hasn't registered. . .except for the fact that he can understand the language.

Steve walks with Mikayla to an unoccupied taxi parked on the side. He sets some bags in the trunk and then gets into the backseat, soon pausing and eventually saying, "Brooklyn. . ." He stops. "No. . .New York City will be fine. Just looking for a hotel."

Mikayla stayed with him as they walked, staying quiet. Her eyes were big as she looked around, just looking, listening, feeling, smelling... and coughing. They weren't even there yet but the air already bothered her. It made her lungs cringe and contract constantly, but she tried to keep her breathing normal so as not to worry Steve. It'd get better when her lungs were more used to it.

She held Nevar's crate in her lap when in the cab, listening to Steve. She found it rather amusing that there was a city of New York, in the state of New York. She then tilted her head, as the cabbie nodded and started to drive. She looked at him. "Why'd you change your mind? Is there something wrong with Brooklyn?"

Her fingers found his, but instead of grabbing hold, she rubbed his hand and arm, then his shoulder gently. She was all but personally experiencing the emotions he was feeling; They were strong and she was close to him, more than just physically. Which was a good thing, or she would've most likely turned around in that airport and left him back in Italy.

Mikayla realized that her current emotional tie with him was stronger than her tie with her homeland. She'd been there six centuries, and she known him for mere days... about a week, if she remembered correctly. So much had transpired in that short amount of time that it made her dizzy just thinking about it.

'Well then don't think about it... Just think about the man in front of you, and what you're doing with him...'

Steve looks out the window and then faces Mikayla when she speaks and rubs his hand, arm, and shoulder. "I, uh. . ." He takes a small pause as he thinks of the reason. He faces the window once more as the car starts to move. Then he swallows once. "Everything I want to see. . .it's all back in the city. Brooklyn is my home but there's nothing there for me. . .except my old home probably. But New York City. . ." That's where the things took place - his joining of the army, meeting his comrades, meeting. . .Peggy.

Plus that's where he wants to do what he's had in mind for a long time now.

Steve does want to think about Mikayla's well-being here. He wants to ask how she feels but his mind is so overwhelmed right now, especially as the cab hits the highway. His eyes don't leave the window. Wow. . .it's all so different. So many buildings. So many cars. The advertisements, the billboards, the technology - it's almost like an entirely different world. He was here just a month ago: well, it feels that way at least.

This is what seventy years has done to a city.

Maybe she's still here. Maybe she's living in her home somewhere, being watched over by family and grandchildren. Would she even remember him? How old would she be? In her 90s. . .?

The thought sends Steve's heart racing even faster. Barely realizing it, he moves his hand to take Mikayla's. He does so without looking, so he runs his hand over the top of her thigh and along her stomach until he finds her hand. He squeezes it gently.

"It's all so different. . ." Steve remarks lowly, eyes still out the window as they exit the highway soon enough.

Mikayla listened to him, her gaze on both him and the world outside at the same time. So many cars... already she'd seen more cars through the window of this one than she had in her lifetime. She was having even more difficulty breathing as they got closer and closer, the air quality steadily decreasing, actually coughing once. She had a feeling she wouldn't be doing very well the first few days here as her body adjusted from 'clean' country air to polluted city air.

The rest of it was amazing to her. Of course she'd known about the technology, but the buildings... It made her little Massa seem even smaller, not only because it was a tiny town but because none of the buildings were more than three stories high... except the mansions on the outer edge. The rest of them were three or smaller. But she was seeing buildings /much/ taller than three stories there.

For a moment, her mind followed the same track as his... only for a moment. That would be... something, if the woman Steve had... missed, was still there. People lived to their nineties if taken care of... easily...

Mikayla's gaze snapped down when she felt Steve's searching hand. It hit a sensitive spot on her stomach right before it found hers, causing her to gasp softly, and tense, her heart going into a panic for a few seconds before calming back down as the tingles escaped. Well that was awkward... she hoped that he was too busy staring at the city to notice that.

"Things happen... is it really that much different in only seventy years?"

She wasn't experienced in technological advances for a city, seeing as the buildings of hers were all still originals from 1225. It was nearly eight hundred years old, and had hardly changed. She didn't understand how a city could change any in only seventy.

No, Steve doesn't notice Mikayla's reaction to his accidentally groping her in search for her hand. He just holds onto it as so many thoughts flow through his head. So many things have happened over the years. These people no longer are worrying about the Second World War. There are no posters of propaganda, no soldiers walking the streets sporadically. Now skyhigh buildings line the streets and create quite the skyline.

This city had moved on without him. . .

Just the other day it had been brownstones and not so busy roads with people in coats and top hats walking the sidewalks. Now these people wear clothes of all different kinds, even different from Massa. Steve watches them as the taxi drives along the streets that are incredibly busy and noisy. Honking cars, sirens in the background, moving advertisements, bike boys with bells, people speaking loudly to each other. . .

This is New York? Yes, it is. Steve recognizes some of the street names. Well, some things haven't changed. He even smiles a little as he begins to realize that he knows his way around this very different area. He knows what this all used to look like and how to get to certain sites. He briefly looks at Mikayla when he hears the question.

"It's very different," Steve answers. He looks out the window again. It's like he can't get enough of the view. "The cars are different, the streets, the buildings, the crowdedness, the people, the entire look. . . None of this was here. . .and I recognize this street." He points to a spot that now holds an Apple store. "That used to be a lounge. The soldiers used to spend their time there. I got beat up behind that alley."

Steve says this casually as he starts to flash back. It really is like a dream, like someone cast a spell over the city and transformed it into this. He's so entranced by it all that he doesn't realize the taxi driver asking if the upcoming Hyatt hotel is okay for the two of them.

Mikayla nearly laughed at how casually he spoke of thing, especially that last bit. "You got beat up? This must've happened when you were still cute and... well, not ninety percent muscle." A finger gently poked his left pectoral, glad that the reason it was three dimensional was muscle. Then her hand returned to just resting on his shoulder as she looked out the same window as he. To each it was a different whole new world, but they shared it at the same time.

She turned her head to hide another cough against her arm, wheezing once after. But then her breathing went back to normal. She watched as the previous lounge passed by, then perked up when the cabbie spoke. Steve was wandering down memory lane, so she turned. "Si, that's fine."

More hotels... after last night, she was just going to ask Steve if she could share a bed with him again, instead of getting two rooms. It only made sense, since she knew she'd end up there anyway. That last time she got scared on the plane was not because she looked down... but because she'd seen that infernal black stallion flying right outside the window, its milky pupil-less eye looking straight at her and Steve. It had tracked her down again, and without anything protecting the room, she knew that night would be a very scary one... unless she was clinging to her personal protection. Better to warn him, though.

"Steve... sorry to pull you from Memory Lane. I'll leave you to it, but... I just want to tell you that Nightmare is back. I saw him outside the plane. So, um... would it be alright if I just slept with you again?"

Steve chuckles briefly at what she says. "Yeah. . .it was before all that. . . All this." He lets out a small sigh and thinks of the times that he stood up to so many bullies. It's during this thought that he realizes that Mikayla had been coughing. He looks at her for a moment. "You okay?" He reaches over to attempt to rub up and down her back.

Steve then can't help but look out the window once more. The cab driver nods at Mikayla and drives directly toward the fancy and expensive hotel. Although it's right down the street, it's taking quite a few minutes since there's so much rush hour traffic. It's so unlike 40s New York. Where are the radios, the markets, and the cobblestone roads?

At last, Steve's mind is torn away from all of that when he hears what Mikayla says. His focus returns to her as she mentions Nightmare. "He's. . .back?" Concern fills his eyes as he grips her hand again. "Yeah. Of course you can sleep with me. I wasn't planning on getting two separate rooms again anyway." He gives her a small smile and leans over to briefly kiss her lips. "Not going to have him scare you again."

The cab drives toward the valet section of the hotel and parks. They're finally here and Steve realizes it. He looks outside and is confused for a second. He can see the lobby from where he is. It's so fancy and gold. It's not like any hotel he's seen in his life.

"Wait, are we sure?"

Mikayla nodded as she cleared her throat, smiling slightly. "Si, I'm fine... it's just the air. It's going to take a bit to get used to it..." The brief rubbing calmed her considerably, so much so that her eyes closed for a moment, only opening back up once he stopped.

She sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, he's back... Alone, I think. I didn't see any others... but he might've had a friend or two. I could feel quite a few jittery people on that plane..." Her hand gripped his back, as a tiny little smile touched her lips. When it came time she would definitely not waste a second in cuddling with him, as she had the previous night, trying to sleep with a good foot between them. She returned the kiss that she felt, both hands gripping that one. She tilted her head slightly. "Never knew a man could change so quickly."

She looked at him at his question, blinking for a few moments. "Is... is there another place you had in mind?" She wasn't feeling good at all - traveling and the air was getting to her. She just wanted to get to a hotel, get a room, and lay down for a little bit. Not necessarily go to sleep, as it was only eight... 'No, it's four... four, not eight...'

/That/ would take a while as well, the time difference. For a long while she'd most likely make that four hour mistake. But she'd get use to it eventually.

Steve is more concerned as she explains about the Nightmare. He pauses for a second. "Definitely will have to make sure that none of them get to you," he says more to himself. He shakes his head and then smiles a bit as she comments on him changing. "Only when his heart does." He looks at her a moment before facing the hotel.

Steve shakes his head to her question. He grips her hand as he steps out of the cab, making sure that Nevar isn't forgotten. "No," he answers. "It's just. . .it looks pricey. I like it but. . ." He chuckles a little as he thinks of staying in a luxury hotel with her. The thought is nice and he knows that she has money but he still isn't used to the idea of her spending it instead of him. He hardly has money though, so. . .

The cab driver is already removing their bags from the trunk, walking over when he has them. Steve thanks him and takes the bags, knowing that this is where they're going to stay now, regardless. He glances back to the gold-rimmed entrance doors one more time and faces Mikayla. Just by looking at her, he can tell that she needs a little rest. She's not used to this atmosphere.

Besides, Steve has a lot of thoughts to collect and gather together. It's a heck of a lot to take in. He still doesn't believe that he's in New York right now, despite the very different settings.

Mikayla chuckled softly. "Well, I didn't know I had my very own knight in shining armor... although... the Captain America armor wasn't very shiny..." She smiled, and her fingers curled around the fingers it could while still in his grip, grabbing Nevar's case at the last second after hearing his 'voice'. She decided it was time to let the poor thing out, opening the cage. In an explosion of stress-lost black feathers, the raven was free, and he flew around a little before landing on Steve's suitcase, feathers puffed. Grumpy bird was grumpy.

She chuckled. "Don't worry about price..." She put and hand to her head, then pinched the bridge of her nose. "If it has a comfortable bed I'd be willing to pay pretty much anything at this moment... Or aspirin. I'd take either or both willingly."

She still help her smile up, mostly for him. With him, it was hard finding a reason /not/ to smile anymore. She picked a few of the bags up, and Nevar rested on one against her side, seeing as he always ended up hurting her when on her shoulder. "C'mon... let's go in and get us a room..."

She took his fingers, then, on her own, changed to holding his hand, and squeezed softly. There was the tiniest hint of something new, something sweet and gentle, in her gaze toward him.

Steve can't help but chuckle at what she says about the Captain America armor. Thinking back on that armor reminds him on what he plans to do while here. He'll be starting on all of that tomorrow. For now, he's going to focus on getting the room and resting a little bit. It had been a long flight after all and he has a lot of things in his mind to attempt to settle.

Hearing Nevar causes Steve to smile a bit. "Sorry about that," he tells the bird as it lands on his suitcase. "No more cage for you. That's a promise." He doesn't care if the cab driver thinks he's weird for speaking to the raven. He almost forgets that the driver is standing there in the first place. He takes the little bits of cash he's gained and hands it to the driver, thanking him.

As the cab drives off, Steve looks toward Mikayla and nods. "Alright. Let's go then so you can get your rest." He still feels horrible having her pay for all this but he knows that he'll make it up to her again later. When she takes his fingers, he's about to act according to custom but she ends up taking his hand instead. It causes him to look toward her, noting the difference in her gaze.

Steve offers her a small smile and parts his lips to begin a sentence that begins with I. Catching himself though, he seals those lips of his and clears his throat softly. "Yeah, let's go get that room." Leading her by the hand, he walks into the fancy hotel and approaches the front desk.

The receptionist looks at Steve for a moment as though she recognizes him and then proceeds to say that only the suites are available. Poor Steve is distracted by all the decorations. This is another new world for him. His mind is bound to stray, especially once tomorrow hits.

Nevar croaked as if saying 'It better be'... and it /almost/ sounded like those words rooted themselves in Steve's thoughts for a moment.

Mikayla walked in with him, and tilted her head. That was the second time she'd seen someone act like they knew who he was. Well... of course. He was Captain America... of course people /in/ America would know who he was, even with that seventy year leave. When the receptionist said only the suites were available, Mikayla shook her head in a 'I don't really care' way and handed over her card to pay for one, taking the keys after. Which, to her surprise, weren't actually keys. The hotel in Florence, for all its expense and decor, still had actual locks on their doors, in case the power went out. These... weren't keys. But she didn't say anything.

The bird at her side was staying as still as possible, and he wasn't questioned about as they made their way to the suite. So many new things were smashing into Mikayla's senses that a headache developed. A pretty bad one. "Don't be surprised if I sleep through tomorrow..."

When they got there, and Steve opened the door, she didn't even pause to look around. All she did was locate the bed, but the things down, and faceplant it, sighing softly. After that, she didn't move, except to turn her head to the side for better air. Then her hair slid over her face, and she sighed. "Good night... you can just... sleep around me."

Good luck with that... she fell right 'through' the middle of the bed. He'd have to move her, because she definitely wasn't moving herself. She wasn't sleeping yet, though. Her body was telling her it was late, that it was nine at night and that she should change and get ready for bed. But her eyes said it was only five, which was dinner time... it was confusing and making her headache worse, and her stomach let out a little growl as it realized it was empty and had been for a while.

It is a small surprise that no one really says anything about Nevar. Oh well. It's not like Steve is thinking much on that anyway. He just admires the hotel and can't help but wonder how long it's been standing here. For now, he washes out the thought. He'll put his mind all over that tomorrow when he starts on the tasks in his head. They're the tasks he's written down in his notebook that's tucked away in one of his bags.

Once inside the suite, Steve stares at how spacious and lovely it is. He quickly gets over the fact on how strange it is to use a card to open the door. It's like a spy device to him. He sets his bags down and walks further into the suite. He barely gets the chance to look around when he sees Mikayla rush toward the bed and flop right onto it. He shakes his head and smiles a bit.

Steve is somewhat tired but his excitement and anticipation outweigh that tiredness. His body does think it's nine o' clock at night but he doesn't let that get to his head. He's so preoccupied with the reality that he's actually here. He peeks outside the window for a moment, noting the balcony and the fantastic view outside of it. It's a great view of the city, which he knows he'll study later. For now. . .

Steve walks toward the bed and sits at the side of it, briefly running his hand up and down Mikayla's back. "Get some rest," he tells her with a small chuckle. "I'll run down and pick up some food. Or I can just order it up here."

Mikayla tensed, feeling his hand on her back, but quickly relaxed at the soothing motion, playfully whining when he stopped. "Aww... that felt good..."

She kicked her shoes off, but stayed as she was, sighing. For a while it was comfortable, but then her legs started feeling weird so she sluggishly pulled herself the rest of the way up, then into a seated position, leaning against him. She smiled, and cuddled closer. "Turns out I don't need a comfy bed... I just need you. There's nothing that could possibly be more comfortable than you..."

She then flopped down again, laying properly, closing her eyes. Her hands slid down to over her stomach as it protested again. "Oh hush," she said to it softly, groaning. "Do whichever you prefer, love."

Mikayla paused, eyes opening. That had just slipped right on out. Her eyes briefly glanced in his direction as she swallowed somewhat hard, her cheeks slowly turning pinker and pinker. She then rolled to face the other direction, curling her legs so that her feet touched his back, taking the pillow that would be his and wrapping her arms around it. Even through the shirt they were cold... but that was mostly due to the fact that she was always cold.

"I-I mean, just... do whichever, yeah..."

Steve laughs lightly at her playful whining. He's about to touch her back again but then she sits up. He stays still as she leans against him. As usual, he finds solace in her closeness. He leans more toward her and nuzzles her a bit. "Me?" He laughs a little bit again. "I doubt that the bed is less comfortable than I am."

Steve turns his head and watches her flop right back down. He smiles a little bit as she sets her hands on her stomach. He's received his answer. He starts to stand up but then he hears what she says. . .and what she calls him afterward.

It can just be a pet name. Yeah, a lot of women say it nowadays, don't they? Some of them even said it back in his day. But. . . Mikayla doesn't use pet names. Steve doesn't remember her doing so. It's why he freezes for a moment when she calls him that. For a couple seconds, his heart beats faster than normal.

Noting her reaction, Steve swallows once and can't help but blush very softly as well. It takes him a moment but he ends up gently setting a hand at the bottom of her leg as she holds the pillow close to her. It's a risqué move for a man of his time since the bare legs of women were considered the more sensual parts. He leans over, his hand lifting and then landing on her hip as he kisses her shoulder. He wants to say something gentle and sweet to her to give off what he feels but his shyness gets in the way. . .still.

"I prefer to have it brought up," Steve ends up telling her close to her ear. "So I can stay here."

Mikayla couldn't help but tense a little bit when his hand landed on her leg. She wasn't sure how sensual that was but it sure was sensitive. She controlled herself where his hand landed next, but couldn't help the smile that spread her lips when he kissed her shoulder, a tingling warmth running down to her spine and then exploding. She turned a little after he spoke, looking up at his face with a gentle smile on. "I like that idea."

Before he could get up to order the food, she hooked her hand on his neck and pulled him down, kissing him tenderly, but deeply, her tongue ghosting over his bottom lip before she bit it softly and released him. There was a playful twinkle in her otherwise-tired eyes. "And for your information, this bed is like stone compared to you, in levels of comfiness."

Now all she really wanted to do was lay with the man and listen to his heart. But her stomach thought it was important, too, and wouldn't quiet down. That would be no fun to have to listen to it if she got comfortable enough to go to sleep, so she sat up, sitting on the edge. "There are times that I wish I was more like vampires, and didn't need to eat... but then I'd never get to taste chocolate or strawberries or lasagna again... That would be tragic."

She smiled at Steve, just watching him. She was in a completely new place - new building, new state, new country... new time zone even. But she was there with him. At that point in time, she could not think of any place that she would rather be, and no other man she would rather be there with.

Steve smiles back at her and is about to order the food until she pulls him down. He returns the kiss while planting his other hand firmly onto the bed. The feel of her tongue and the bite afterward cause that heated energy streak to briefly soar through him. He clears his throat so that he doesn't pay too much attention to the feeling yet. He just looks at her for a moment and chuckles. "I'll keep that in mind."

After kissing her like that and returning that glance she gives him, Steve too wants to lay beside her but food is indeed calling. He lifts himself upward and stands up from the bed. "I agree with you," he says as he opens up a drawer and pulls out a menu. "That would be very tragic. I can't imagine going without food."

Steve doesn't notice that he's being watched. He just scans over the menu and says, "I'm just going to order a plate of steak and rice for myself. It comes with a bottle of wine. Anything you're in the mood for?" He looks toward her and then steps forward to hold out the menu, not knowing if she'll need it or not to make her decision.

It's been a while but Steve can finally read what the menu says. It's a strange thing but he's become used to seeing the Italian language everywhere. It's kind of a relief to see everything in American once again.

Mikayla shook her head when he asked if she was in the mood for something specific. "Something edible. Surprise me more than you have already in the last twenty-four hours."

There was no way she was going anywhere, so she decided to change. She got out of bed, then dropped to her knees and simply crawled over to her suitcase, opening it and fishing around for some nightclothes. She would have just stripped to her underclothes, but she moved around when asleep and she didn't want to chance her bra showing off anything it shouldn't be. Plus, in order for food to arrive, that meant people would be coming... and the only person she wanted seeing her like that was Steve... er, well, he was the only person she was okay with seeing her like that.

She pulled out the blue ones she'd worn the previous night, then stood up, pulling her current clothes off so she could step into those. She would apologize if Steve showed that it bothered him, as she knew he could see her right then, but otherwise she wouldn't say anything. He'd seen everything shown before, and she was that comfortable in front of him... if she had to /completely/ change, though... no. Not yet.

When she was redressed in the slick fabric, she folded her clothes up and put them in her suitcase, zipping it up. Then she walked over to him, and stepped close, resting her head against his chest, listening to his heart. After a few moments she felt her heart skip a beat, go twice as fast... then settle again in sync with his. Meaning the throb in her head was also synced up with it. It almost made her chuckle, but all she really did was sigh and nuzzle her head against him.

Steve smiles slightly and then nods. Nothing is incredibly fancy here except for escargot and frog legs but he doesn't plan to order her that. He'll get her fish with a side of oysters. He's in the mood for oysters as it is. He hasn't had them in ages. He moves forward to take the phone. He dials in and starts to order. His eyes move toward Mikayla and that's when he notices what she's doing.

Steve tries not to get too distracted as he sees her strip down to get into her night clothes. A blush finds his cheeks and he stares for a moment and looks downward so that he can answer the man's questions with a clear head. He almost forgets what he's doing. Sure, he's seen her like that before but it doesn't mean that he's used to it. Besides, she has a lovely body and he can't help but be very entranced by it.

His pulse does race very slightly but he manages to calm down as he finishes the order. Steve then hangs up the phone and puts the menu down in time for her to come over and nuzzle against his chest. He slides an arm around her and smiles. "Should be up here in about twenty minutes, they said," he tells her close to a whisper. His opposite hand finds its way through her hair as he holds her against him.

With her being so close to his chest, she can probably tell that it had been beating faster just earlier. Steve relaxes though and already almost forgets about Nevar and where his whereabouts can possibly be. He's so focused on the woman in his arms and how content he is being with her, right here and now.

Mikayla smiled. Twenty minutes? Even though her stomach was /quietly/ demanding food now, she figured she could wait another twenty minutes. "Sounds great," she mumbled softly against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist. Then she reached up and kissed his throat.

"Did you like what you saw?"

Another playful glint in her eye, pulling her arm back around front to rub his chest gently, feeling safe in his half embrace. She very much heard the excited pulses, but she dismissed them. Of course that was going to happen. He was a man - all men got a little nervous or excited when a woman undressed in front of him. However... for some reason, with him, it was a little adorable.

"So what'd you get me? Or do I have to wait to learn what I'm eating?"

At the mention of the word, her stomach quietly piped up. It was getting annoying and a tad bit embarrassing. But then again she'd never let it get that far before; she ate when she first felt hungry, not when her body told her she really was.

How Steve really enjoys when she kisses his throat. Combined with her question, he does his best to hold back his reaction. He looks at her and smiles a little bit. "You should know."

Steve moves his other arm around so that he's holding her completely now. At her question, he chuckles lightly. "Halibut," he answers. "And oysters." He looks down at her and decides to kiss after her stomach makes that soft noise again. "That food better get here quick," he speaks against her lips.

Steve's held her in his arms so many times and he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of it. This is always what he's imagined doing with a woman he greatly cares about: simply holding her tenderly, regardless of how long.

Mikayla chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure I do. Never hurts to hear it, though. Helps with a woman's self-esteem, you know?" Yeah, as if she needed any more of that. If she felt any better about herself she'd probably waltz around the city completely naked... which probably would not be a good thing at all.

That made her feel so much more secure, having his other arm around her. She felt like walking him backwards over to the bed, pushing him down, and just laying on him... but the kiss, and then hearing her meal, made her pause. "Wait... oysters?" That put her in a little giggle fit, which she tried hard to keep from evolving into laughter. That was beautiful. And so soon after what had happened at the lake, too.

She stayed in his arms until there was a knock at the door. It wasn't until then that she realized there were some pretty yummy smells in the same room as them. She got the door, peering around, the smells so much stronger. It made her stomach growl a little bit louder. "Mmmm... fish."

It had been a while since she'd had any of that... a while meaning about a month.

Steve smiles and nods. "I'll. . .I'll remember that. . ." He'll try to anyway, if he doesn't freeze again. He'll attempt to gain that confidence and let her know how breathtaking she looks with so much skin exposed. He has to remember that even in the 40s, at this point, a man would have seen much of a woman's body. Not completely disrobed probably but sometimes. . .things happened.

When she started to giggle, Steve pauses and wonders why. Does she not like oysters? Are vampires allergic? He lets the time tick and then parts his lips to ask.

That's when the knock occurs.

Steve looks over and sees a man walk in with a rolling table and covered plates of food that smell absolutely delicious. He walks over and asks the man to set it by the chairs beside the suite table. The man does so, Steve thanks and tips him. Then he and Mikayla are alone again.

Steve couldn't help but notice how the man had kept sneaking glances at her, discreetly no less. He knows it's because of her magical and unnatural beauty and also because, well. . .a woman in her nightwear is always attractive.

Steve lifts the metal lids from the plates and the aroma floods the room. He doesn't sit or eat yet. He waits for Mikayla to do first, which is why he uncovers the fish and oysters first and serves her wine.

"Hope you like it," Steve says with a small smile.

Mikayla noticed those glances as well, and for a few moments before he left, she just constantly stared at him, but it was more of a 'please stop' stare. When he was gone, she stopped, and was quick to sit down at the table. That way she could eat faster, and he could sit sooner as well.

"Thank you very much, mi..." She paused, realizing what she was about to say. Then a soft smile or smirk appeared, and she continued. "Mi amore. I hope you like yours as well."

She hoped it would be clear to him what that mean, even if he didn't know Italian. She'd said it the same way she had before in English, when on the bed. She waited until he was seated before taking a bite of the halibut, smiling. "Someone knows how to pick his food." She eyed the oysters as she ate a little more, her stomach falling silent as she continued to eat. Then she picked a shell up and emptied it into her mouth, chewing twice before swallowing it. She licked her lips. "Mmm... just like I remember."

It had been years since she'd had oysters, seeing as Leonardo had been deathly allergic to shellfish and she didn't want to end up killing the poor man if he walked into the kitchen as she was preparing or eating them.

Steve pauses at her Italian again. He attempts to put two and two together and he thinks he knows what she's saying. That's why he sends her a soft smile and has the urge to kiss her. He sits down and briefly thinks about when he'll have the courage to state what he feels toward her. He doesn't think of that for long since food is in front of him.

As Steve cuts into the steak, he chuckles. "I remember a thing or two about the food around here." He begins to eat, enjoying the steak very much. He sips some wine now and then and even picks up a couple oysters. Oh yes. . .those are still delicious. It's been a while but he still enjoys them.

When the silence falls and Steve is almost done eating, he looks at Mikayla and says, "I hope you end up liking it here. I know it's not the countryside and it's the complete opposite of what you're used to but. . . I hope you don't hate it too much."

Steve chuckles a bit and eats the rest of what's on his plate. He can definitely admit that New York food has gotten better over the decades. He can't wait to explore what else has changed in this location.

Mikayla, for once, actually doesn't take too long to eat what she has in front of her. She enjoyed the oysters greatly but she only ate a few, watching as Steve had a couple as well and smiling. Soon enough every bite of fish was gone, and there was only one oyster left. She pointed to it. "Would you like that one?"

She chuckled softly at what he said, shaking her head and reaching across to take his hand. "End up liking it? Steve, I've only been here a little over an hour and I already like it. I couldn't possibly hate it... you're here, for one... And it's beautiful in its own modern way. The air doesn't agree with my body at the moment but that'll pass soon and then I can enjoy everything entirely.

Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand gently as she held it, a gentle smile on her face. She didn't seem as tired anymore. It was obvious she was still, she just didn't look as bad as she had before. Her eyes still held that soft look in them from before.

Mikayla was actually a little surprised at how good that food came out. From all the foreigners she'd ever hosted in casa di Silverblood, she'd always heard that they'd never tasted food so good, and she could hear the sincerity of their words. She knew it wasn't just the homemade cooking they talked about either, as she didn't always feel like cooking for guests from scrap. Steve was special... she'd cook him every meal if she got the chance.

But the fish that she'd just eaten... she hadn't tasted halibut that good in a while. Or oysters, and she usually only preferred to eat her own oysters.

Steve looks at the last oyster when she points to it. "Only if you don't want it," he tells her with a small chuckle. He grips her hand in returns when she takes his. He smiles back, liking what she says. It would have been pretty terrible if she didn't like it here at all. And if she became homesick. . . Well, of course he wouldn't want her to leave.

After a couple moments pass, Steve remarks, "You look better. Before we came inside here, you looked exhausted. The food must have really helped." He chuckles a bit as he looks her over. For some reason, her outfit really stands out on her now. It causes him to feel strange. . .

Shaking his head, Steve looks toward the window. It's almost seven in the evening but his body tells him it's eleven. Still, now that he's home, being tired is not an option. If Mikayla wants to rest though, he won't just leave her here.

Either way, Steve doesn't plan on leaving the room. It had been a long flight and the best thing to do now is relax, even for Captain America.

Mikayla shook her head, and pushed it over closer to him. "You can have it." She smiled, and felt like walking over and cuddling with him, but she stayed where she was across the table. She thought about what she said, looking at the clock. Okay, she'd been there for a little under three hours... but her point still stood. She liked it there. And of course she was going to get homesick... But in her personal bag she'd slipped a couple photos that she figured would help with that - one of her and Golden Gate as a foal, her and Leo in that special frame, then her and her third husband, before she'd made that mistake and he'd fallen so ill he'd died. Seeing him made her feel so horrible, but at the same time, the look on his face in that picture always made her smile. He looked so happy... it was a picture like that that she was hoping to eventually get with Steve... so that in the future, no matter how close or distant, she could look back and be happy.

"I feel a little better, too. I guess I was running on low too long." That made her pause, a little bit of worry in her eyes. New place... she didn't know anyone except for Steve. How in the world was she supposed to feed now?

After a few minutes, the pale vampyre did stand, her pajama shirt a little small and showing off some stomach. She walked around, not once letting go of his hand, and kissed his forehead. She gently pulled her fingers through his hair, stroking gingerly, then tilted his face up and kissed him on the lips. For a few moments, she couldn't get enough of his lips, and planted tender kiss after tender kiss on them. She then planted one on his chin, then several on his throat before she returned to his lips. "You should come cuddle with me so I can get some sleep. You need to rest too. Captain America or not, this sexy body is still human."

Thinking over that, she giggled. How in the world had she ended up this close to a superhuman? Especially one like him.

She tugged on his hand gently, then let her fingers slip from his as she walked over to the bed and laid on top of it, looking over at him with a gentle pleading expression, similar to puppy eyes but less exaggerated.

Steve reaches forward and takes the oyster. He smiles a little bit and eats it. He already lost count on how many he's had. He looks at Mikayla and is slightly reassured that she's fine here. It's a strange thing because it's like he reads her mind at that moment. She's a vampyre. He thinks more deeply on that while their hands are connected. She needs to feed. He's not sure how that works since they had briefly touched upon it. Does she have her same set of people or does she just go hunting and find random people?

Well. . .now that Steve thinks of it. . .even in the 40s, New York was never short on its crime. Perhaps she can find someone on the criminal side of the city. The thought starts to somewhat bother him so he doesn't focus on it for long. He'll probably talk about it with her once it's brought up. For now, he finishes the oyster and nods. "That makes sense."

Steve takes a napkin and wipes his lips when he sees her stand up. He puts the napkin down and without realizing it, his eyes become connected with the skin that the pajama shirt doesn't cover. That gaze moves upward and lands on her face. His opposite hand gently lands and holds her by the waist as he's seated there and she strokes his hair. It feels nice, relaxing. She can do this for as long as she wants. He closes his eyes, which is exactly the moment when she tilts his head to kiss his lips. He returns the kisses and slides that hand around so that his arm is snaked around her waist now.

As usual, Steve's neck starts to spread with heat as she places kisses on his throat. It's almost like she's going for his weaknesses: tender kisses, throat contact, teasing amount of skin for his eyes. After the moments of kissing, he chuckles softly at what she says. He controls his cheeks from heating up at the 'sexy' comment. It's the first time she's called him that or for an unknown reason to him, it catches his attention.

Steve watches her go back to the bed. He sits there for some time and chuckles again, smiling afterward. He stands up and kicks his shoes off along the way. Leaving on the t-shirt and pants, he ends up laying beside her and instantly planting a quick kiss on her lips. He doesn't know what drives him to do that but the desire to do it had been there. So had the desire to reach his arm around her.

Mikayla grinned at the kiss she received when he joined her in bed, quickly pushing close and wrapping her arm over his stomach, hooking on the other side and holding him close to her. She nuzzled her head against his chest, and sighed happily, smiling. "So comfy..."

She looked up at him with playful eyes, then climbed completely onto him, resting her head on the left side of his chest still. "You are now my bed... and therefore are stuck here until I'm asleep enough that I either don't care or don't wake up when you move me." She giggled, rubbing his chest gently.

The feeding problem popped into her head again. She had ten days to find someone to willingly give her blood, and hopefully not her to do what she normally would in return... /that/ would make her feel horrible and dirty. Unless... unless the super soldier beneath her was willing. She parted her lips to ask him, lifting her head even. Then she stopped. No... she'd already taken from him once, and though his blood was delicious... she didn't want to chance getting hooked on it. That was when she came up with the decision to ask him /only/ if she couldn't find someone satisfactory within those ten days.

Meaning that rest was not an option. She would that night, as she was already too comfortable to be bothered to redress and go out. But for the next nine, as much as she hated the thought, she would have to leave his secure, comfortable embrace to try and find a donor that she agreed with.

So, instead of asking if she could simply do that, she leaned up and kissed him, nibbling on his lip with her teeth ever so slightly before she lowered her head to his shoulder again, her lips within easy reach of his throat. It would have been so easy to get him going again... but that wouldn't be right. She kissed the skin, humming that lullaby from the plane.

Steve moves so that he's completely on his back when she moves on top of him. He smiles and slides an arm around her. As usual, he enjoys the rubs she applies to his chest. He has this urge - this want - pass through him. . .

"It seems like I have quite the responsibility as a bed," Steve tells her with a small chuckle while running a hand up and down her back.

The urging feeling passes by when Mikayla lifts her head. Steve waits for her to say something and when she doesn't, he parts his own lips to speak but then she kisses him. He returns the kiss and even nibbles on her lower lip right back.

As she rests against him, the urge returns. Steve has this image of taking Mikayla, turning over so he's on top and pressing a deep kiss to her lips. With her mouth so teasingly close to his throat, the desire almost intensifies. He's surprised that he hasn't removed his restricting shirt. He can do so now and. . .

. . .Steve mentally shakes his head. Not now. Not tonight. Ever since their time in the lake, he's felt different. He's felt physically closer to her and has wanted to express his feelings for her. That's part of the reason why he has the image of crawling on top of her and just taking her here on this bed in this hotel room. The thought makes him nervous but eventually the night should come.

Just not. . .tonight. Steve's thoughts of this start to swirl and settle within his head as she hums the lullaby. It puts his body at ease, which would prepare him for the upcoming days. These days will be hectic. He might even be separated from Mikayla for some time. It might give her the advantage to attempt and bond with the city. These days will be hectic. . .

. . .but they will be more than crucial. That's the last thought in Steve's head as he falls into a light sleep.

Mikayla chuckled softly, and nodded. "Si, but you're a very responsible bed as it is, so I doubt there will be a problem."

She grinned when he nibbled her lip back. She was beginning to like kissing him more and more - now she more than loved kissing him. As she settled more comfortably on him, her legs flush against his hips and thighs, a thought floated through... maybe the venom had a permanent effect on him? Or, maybe, just a very extended one. The amount of oxytocin in it... well, it might as well have just been nothing but that. It was called the 'love hormone' for a reason, making two feel more bonded or loving toward each other when it's experienced by both in their presence. She'd given him quite a bit...

That wouldn't be so bad, though...

Listening to his heart beat, she slowly lost consciousness, thinking about the days to come. They still needed to find a place of residence... but what she mainly worried about as she fell asleep was the blood donor issue. Thinking of blood, her body started wanting it, and by the time she fell into a deep sleep, her lips were pressed against his throat. And that was how she slept.


End file.
